almost
the first hand i held
rough, distant,
the kind that flinched before it ever held back.
only a child
with open palms and knees torn from trying,
offering pieces of myself
for a glance, a nod, a maybe
you spoke in scolding,
in sighs that cut deeper than shouts.
every praise i dreamed of
hung just above reach,
a fruit that rotted before i could taste it
i needed you
like breath needs depth,
but you came in shallow gasps
just enough to keep me upright,
never enough to feel whole
learning early on,
love must be earned,
tears must be hidden,
and nothing i was
could ever be quite right
still,
i show you my wounds
like they are medals
waiting for your voice to sound like home.
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a parent’s love is the foundation upon which a child builds their sense of self, safety, and belonging. it shapes how they see the world and how they see themselves within it. consistent, nurturing love fosters emotional security, resilience, and confidence, while the absence or distortion of that love can plant seeds of self-doubt, anxiety, and longing that follow a child well into adulthood. when a child is met with criticism instead of compassion, or indifference instead of affection, their mental health can suffer deeply. a parent’s love isn’t just wanted, it’s needed. it teaches a child they are worthy of love simply by being.