I wish I could hurt you, and tell you not a thing you felt was real...
Not the salty sting of your tears on your freshly slapped skin,
Not the burning trail of warmth and moisture they leave on your bruised cheeks
Not the painful earthquake sent across your skull as your lip trembles and you begin to cry in anger, and in fear
Not the dull headache that will lull your shaken heart to sleep
Not the feeling like your ribs truly are a cage to you breath deprived lungs
Not the physical exhaustion of you giving up
Not the emotional defeat sinking you into prayer,
that maybe if you curl up tight enough, you will keep shrinking
into a dot
until you disappear.

None of it was real,
I'll never say it was,
because it wasn't.