every day, my ears feel like they're bleeding

I've spent long enough learning how to filter out your words

I stand, staring at those eyes of passion and rage

Unmoving.

it's not my fault

How long until you go mute?
How long until I grow deaf?

I turn, only to be
held by my wrist
I remain steady

It means nothing to me now,
The accusations
Why must we continue this?

ouch

Actions speak louder than words
In this case however,
Words would be much more reasonable

I reach a hand upward
gently touching my face
looking down at my palm
crimson contrasting against
Pale skin

I wouldn't feel upset
Leaving you
You wouldn't hate it either,
Probably
I can't say I haven't considered it