did you expect me to cry?
When you saw my scars and hid your surprise
did you want me to break and spill my soul
to a stranger with a doctorate and a receding hairline?
Not a chance.
Was I supposed to be comforted
by your cliché phrases
(voice dripping with condescension)
“it’s just a phase”
“it didn’t help, did it?”
Maybe not, but it did more than you ever could.
And just because
you’ve “seen this many times before”
doesn’t mean you know me one bit.
Leave the past where it lies
Don’t handle me like delicate china, asking
“Is everything okay?” with your back to me and your eyes and mind elsewhere
Come at me like an angry bull
because I swear to you,
I am new
and I will not break.
but the false concern in your eyes
disgusts me, and when you reached out your hand
and asked for a deal:
“call me if you need to talk, before you do anything, alright?”
I wanted to laugh in your face;
you are no help, and never will be.
And I’ll admit, and even apologize
because I’ve never told so blatantly false a lie
as when I took your hand and smiled,