When I dress in the morning, I feel you grab me from behind. I buy myself a drink and you smash the glass. I turn to kiss him and you pull my hair, hard.

Exhale.

(You don't understand when I say I am angry. I'm not talking about jutting out my lower lip and clenching my fist, I mean my hand wants to fly up and rip my own ******* mouth off of my face.)