Maybe It's Real

I remember the first night. I avoided a kiss. I turned my head so your sour lips met my cheek. You grabbed my chin out of anger, forcing me to look at you. You yelled at me, striking my cheek. I was scared, surprised, stunned. Hurt.

You stood up, saying a terrible word, and then you left.

You left me.

But that was only the first time.

~

When my dad died, you showed no sympathy. You just pulled me around like a toy. I needed you then.

I needed the old you.