Salinger once said, "I have scars from touching certain people."
You are the one who has left the deepest scars.
I hold my fists up to my face - to defend myself,
we both know it's useless.
You manage to cut without touching.
Your mouth is your weapon.
Your words could cut diamonds,
and they slice through me - I am the thinnest paper,
and you, the sharpest of scissors.
I don armor to shield myself from your attacks when you are angry.
I am your target,
say the wrong thing and I can expect to feel your fury.
I compared you to the hulk;
the way you get yourself into a rage, I could swear you change form.
After, when calmed, you return to your normal self.
Weeping while you apologize,
acknowledging that it's not okay,
punishing yourself for what has happened.
"It's okay" I always tell you
"No it's not" you always reply softly, sadly.