Cruelty

Afraid of listening.

Anxious.

Nervousness is my second skin.

Your words make me so.

What would I do to myself if I really listen?

I shudder even at the thought of it.

Do you not claim to love me?

If this is how love is…

Forgive me.

I’d rather not let it rule my mirrory heart.

How can you make me hate ballads?

Soft as they are, they let your words penetrate through.

Your cruelty might be unintentional.

But it sears through.