Your flaming eyes
(I hate when you look at me that way)
Are indignant looking upon me
Seeing a flawless concrete mask
Of supposed hidden emotion
(I recall Mona Lisa)
Am I being cruel? (Apparently)
So you rage on,
Pinning me down with
Questions which become
Frustrations
And accusations
(I hate when you shout)
And under the skin
I am boiling and burning,
Needing to explain
But it's so hard for me
To get a thought through my brain
In the midst of your 'godammit's and
'What the hell's your problem's,
Instead, inside my head
I calmly tell you that
If I were to love you
(Hypothetical question)
And you were to love me
(Yet more hypothetical question)
Would you assure me
That I would not be
Shaken, Broken, Shrunken, Weakened,
And in short robbed of myself?
(I didn't think so.)