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Push

Push.
Grabbed by both my wrists.
Heaved backwards when I just want to go.
Not go as in die.
Not go as in cry.
Just go...
Into another room, away from arguments and pain.
But you.
Of all people.
Grab my wrists and twist.
Shoving my back into the room.
Making it worse.
How could you to this?
Slam the ring on the table.
And tell you to get out.
Scream at you with tears in my eyes.
How could you?
But you don't leave.
You stay outside the door and than come back to make sure I'm okay.
And when you touch me after the argument is over I can't help being scared of your anger.
I love you.
Don't hurt me.
Don't grab me.
Don't hit me.
I love you.
I know you don't want to hurt me.
But the look in your eyes, the hatred for me sometimes.
For my tears.
And mood swings.
And problems.
That I just pushed you until you snapped.
And I was ready to leave, the very moment you pushed me back.
Written by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
Published | Edited 14th Sep 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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