Conditioned

You reached for hands that left mid-hold,

Were taught that warmth runs hot, then cold,

They smiled through teeth that stayed tight-lipped,

And vanished right before you slipped.

You learned to scan, to sense, to steer,

To mute your needs and tune to fear, 

They offered crumbs, then closed the gate,

And named neglect a twist of fate.

You chase what pulls, not what remains,

Think being held means being drained,

You follow signals dressed as care,

But only silence answers there.

So now you crave the half-concerned,

The ones who stall, who leave you burned,

Who echo pain and call it deep,

And childhood rocks you back to sleep.

You reenact the roles you knew,

Rewrite the past in someone new,

But love can’t grow where ghosts still feed,

It twists to match your unmet need.

Cathrine Hottran 2025