Park Benches and Polaroids

family therapy

my brother says

"I miss the old Zoe"

in the car

driving back from therapy

in the dark.

my mother hands me a cup of coffee

at breakfast,

saying,

"i know it hurts,

but you need to move on."

I grip the mug and

try to swallow my anger.

I didn't know it would be so hard to do those two words.

my father hikes with me

through the snow covered woods

paths slippery and well trodden

and tells me

"of course he still loves you,

but it's not time right now."

I glare

wipe away my tears

and stare at the orange streetlights

blinking in and out of consciousness.