So soft, cotton skin.
Rubber bands around my heart, twist and pull, always snapping back.
I'll make it all up in my head or so you told me I had, no it couldn't have been that bad.
I'll let it sit, feel it scratch away at my skin, let it bleed in only places you won't see.
I'm begging you just listen, please, it's like pressure from each side, forcing me to hold my breathe.
Maybe I'm too sensitive, I try so hard to push it down, swallow my words and bite my tongue.
Numb myself, but it's spilling over now.
It's the quiet car rides after you yelled too loud and I tried so hard to ignore it, it's the itching for more than silent stares and screens and sex then a kiss goodnight.
It's the screaming, crying, begging for you to listen and you blank faced telling me you didn't do anything.
How can you claim to know me, to love me?
When you won't even give me the time of day, when you won't even try to understand?
