immune.

Casually cruel like a best dressed prediction.

Passive aggressive when I’m feeling unnerved, 

And you’re just glancing to make sure I’m firm. 

Feels like I’m most likely to leave at the sign of a fork in the road. 

Unsure of my choices. 

My emotions.

My circles. 

Your look of hurt cuts a hole in my heart that bleeds into my liver. 

I miss being alone when it didn’t mean being alone. 

Scared because sometimes it feels like there’s happiness, 

And I’ve grown immune to it. 

My tendencies, thought processes create a reality I sit in for too long. 

Tethering my hurt to the fear of moving on. 

This pain is like cold water, 

Your brain just gets used to it. 

And maybe I’m just like the rest of us. 

The folks that just need something to be angry about. 

But what are you angry about?