I Hate Your Silences
I hate your silences.
Waiting for your rage,
waiting to be punished
for something innocent.
At least when you are yelling at me,
I know where we stand.
The anticipation is over.
I don’t have to fear the bad thing
because it is happening.
The endless waiting
to find out
what mood you are in
is a special kind of hell
not even the devil
could have created.
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Well stated.
(I was once there, but no more,
There CAN be life after hell.)