Maybe if I stay very, very still, then

the words you’re throwing at me won’t hurt me and I won’t

shatter into a zillion pieces because I’m

holding myself together.

And maybe if I shut my eyes tight enough I won’t see the barbs coming and they won’t catch me and I won’t feel them and they won’t cut me; they’ll

bounce off my clenched fists, scared of tipping my balance.

Maybe if I curl into myself,

my own pain won’t leak out through my tensioned thighs because of your well intentioned shards

you won’t see my insides melting, molten from the

fire of your

icy cold heart.

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