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.