do you remember

the first time you yelled at me?

when you blamed me for something i didn't do.

it felt like every sentence was wrapping itself around my throat.

like each word was a fist slamming into my jaw.

your apology the next day was an ice pack.

your lips were stitches on an open wound.

but each time the letters sunk in a little deeper.

the phantom blood dripped from the gashes a little longer.

sometimes, i wished

you would have just struck me.

at least then,

the bruises would have

shown.

at least then,

somebody might have

noticed.