• Tears come unwillingly.
    I feel a shudder-- a cringe--
    when your cold affection tries to
    apologize to me.
    Apology not accepted.
    Don't put your clammy hand on mine,
    or I might cry again.
    I might let my true feelings show.
    Anger comes over me.
    Salty tears taste so good on this honesty.
    My hands shake;
    my lips quiver--
    don't touch me.
    Don't try to comfort me.
    I'll only pull away.
    I might punch that fake smile you passed on to me,
    to show you what pain really is.
    And I hope it aches your heart at two in the morning.
    I hope it dries your throat to illness
    and worries your mind to madness.
    And I truly hope you admit it
    when we have this same old talk again.