Mothering Resentments

I'm beginning to resent,
that you're never here, when I am,
when I need to talk,
even though I know, if you were here,
I wouldn't say a thing anyway.

I'm beginning to resent,
that we only talk about Dad,
when it suits you, not when I'm the unhappy one,
even though I know, if you told me to tell you how I feel,
I wouldn't want to explain it anyway.

I'm beginning to resent,
that you want to move away from home,
and can't understand why I'm so set against it,
when I feel this place is the one thing that keeps me anchored,
in my disappointing life,
even though I know, if we did move,
I could eventually feel anchored some place else anyway.

I beginning to resent,
that you put your point of view on to what I'm saying,
on the rare occasions that I do cry to you,
and tell you how the world feels to me now, without Dad in it,
even though I know, if I asked you not to do it,
you'd stop projecting onto me anyway.

I'm beginning to resent,
that you saw a bereavement counsellor,
and came to terms with it better by yourself,
but never managed to notice that I'm not handling the grief well by myself,
even though I know, if I told you I needed a counsellor too,
you'd make the plans for me anyway.

I'm beginning to resent,
that when we talk, because you want to,
you don't take my silence for the pain and anger that is,
and that you just let me bottle it up,
even though I know, if I'm bottling things up just to spite you,
that's all my fault anyway.

I'm letting myself become angry at you, just because you're moving on, while I'm stuck in place.
I'm letting myself stay angry at you, just because you don't notice that anger I'm showing, in the first place.
And I'm letting that anger for you switch to me, because I know that me reacting this way, says more about me, than it does about you.

I'm losing my spirit to the pain. Please notice before I'm gone completely.