I am not weak.
But you will never know this.
Because you were told,
That I was enclosed in glass,
And that I needed to be handled with care.

Your mistake was thinking that I was made up of glass.

Dating you always seemed like we were holding hands at first.
Tightly gripped and firm.
Then you started to loosen your grip and I held mine in place.
Still tightly gripped and firm.
Over time...your hand started slipping from mine and I still held on.
Until that night...when you finally yanked your hand away from mine.

Now I hold my own hand...in a fist.
Tightly gripped and firm.

Waiting to punch you in the throat.

I  took  my wrist  and  cut  myself,
just  to  open  up  to  you.
And you  watched  my blood  as  it  touched  the ground.
I  waited for  you  to  move from the miles  you  put between us.
I  hoped that  you would come help  me close my wound.
Instead,  you  pretended  as  if  you  did not see  me.
And you turned around and walked   in the opposite direction.
Adding more distance  between  us.