If Your Personality Could Make Up it's Mind.

Pictures of you are face-down on my dresser,
I can't stand to see the smiles.
Not when you're screaming at me like this,
and people can hear it for miles.

Why don't you love me?
When I'm trying this hard....
to put your problems behind us,
and ignore your ugly scars.

The tears I'm holding back,
as I avoid your bloodshot eyes,
are choking me up and tearing me down,
then I spy your bottle of wine.

I know you don't mean it,
but it cuts just as deep...
your words are like razors,
revisiting in my sleep.

As you roll away from me,
with venom coating your words...
I ignore the slaps you left,
and the way my face still burns.

Your quiet snores remind me of
those nights we spent beneath the stars.
I pick your picture of the dresser,
missing those days before your scars.