Bruising grip

Are you unable to understand what I speak?

Do you not feel my clenched fist squeezing the life out of your wrist?

Do you not feel your arm getting a bruising grip?

So much for someone who has lost their ability to think.

So much for someone devoid of feeling.

So much for someone evolved beyond these things.

Wouldn’t it hurt less if it weren’t my mistreatments?

If it were just some random man you thought was beyond reasoning?

Isn’t the hurt more immense when it’s someone you considered your friend?

Don’t claim that it’s the end,

That you are unable to comprehend,

That my words have lost the meaning they held,

Buried somewhere in a trench.

Do not repeat it again.

I see your eyes cover pain,

The complaints of the dead,

Proof of remaining flesh.

You can comprehend the storms in my head

And my endless attempts to calm myself,

To tell you the love I still have,

To apologize for how I behaved.

You are not devoid of this blame.