You twist my face
like the stubborn lid of a
jelly jar, until it distorts
into a Picasso.  
Sorrow and anger weaken
the walls of my external mask;  
burning, until it
drips away like candle wax.  
The ****** of interest strengthens
your indifference, and silently
its hand boulders into
my flesh like a cannonball through paper.

You wring out my heart, letting
the happiness trickle through your
clenched fingers,
into a puddle on the grass.