Your complaints are an avalanche of negativity; smothering me…I can’t dig myself out.

My arms are tired and my fingertips are numb from reaching out to you through your icy words.

Your lips know no boundaries, for they are suffocating me with a simple hiss.

Your cold eyes watch as I’m beaten down, one cruel word at a time.

My strength disappears with the movement of your mouth, and at that moment I long for just a taste of the power you have over me.

Warm blood drips from my knees and my lips bear calluses from kissing your soiled feet.

Why do I expect you to understand depth when your river runs so shallow?

You leave me no time to mourn the loss of the true love we once shared.

As your complaints trickle down my body, like a soft rain waiting to attack, I lose myself.

I wander to a lone dandelion in the center of a plush green field.

This dandelion, the most stunning of all the weeds, becomes my only comfort.

This is where I lie and wait for the storm to calm.

This is where I pray to God, hoping she will ease the pain.

This is where I shrivel up and wonder why I let myself suffer, for not even death could hurt this much.