[ when is the day ]

when is the day
where I finally break
under the weight of my own
silence, dragged down by each
tiny injustice you heap upon me,
even as your touches fall with
broken grace through the air
to light on my skin, another
bruise nobody sees that I
will remember on late nights
once the abscence or silence
breaks us both.
I guess I severely underestimated your
capability for cruelty, reading your
face as you listen to the music of me
falling to pieces in your hands,
impassive eyes studying the shards
of truth, sharp as mirrored glass.
your empty words blow cold winds
around me, light shining dangerous
and deadly bright-
for a brief moment I close my eyes,
pretending I feel the sun.