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.
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