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.