I see it in your face,
eyes and tone of your voice.
You aren't trying to hide it, you want me to see your anger.
It might not mean much to you or maybe it does.
But when we fight, I shut down.
I go limp.
My face flee's as far away from yours.
My legs begin to feel light,
as if they could be ripped off by a touch.
My stomach goes inside out and drops.
Teeth clench, eyebrows begin to pinch to paint a face to be pitied.
Belittled.
I don't have the energy to do anything more. My whole body is worn, sucked from blood.
My bones itch and scratch against my fat. I rip and tear at the skin on my arms till they're red and raw.
I want to feel good again. I want to feel clean.
I want to go through my body and scoop out the gew and gunk that makes you mean.
