Every day I curse my words,
words to chain me down,
words to drive my soul back down into stone caverns,
words to conceal me.

Dense, jagged, horrific.

But today I found your screaming mouth print on my mirror,
and outspoken hand prints on the shower curtain,
and I swear I lost my heart,
Dull and silent, behind the eyes of my faults.
And you said hello.

Every day I curse, that you ignore {me}.

Tomorrow I won't have to.