The words on the page
They look at my face
And see only the pain
That your eyes have glued my skin
My being
My soul

But I am old now
Older than I was
When I was struck by that pain
By that plain sense of ache
Hitting me as I fall asleep, like a glass hitting the floor in an earthquake

The pain
The ache you paint on my face
It’s only a trace of what once was
Because I am no longer damaged or broken or fragile
I do not need you to be my angel
I am my own angel

And I break every one of these cages
I see you put on my face
Cages of the rage that once was
Glued to my skin
My being
My soul

But you misunderstand
The way I have gotten to this point
Where I stand

You are the only one who sees a fictional suffering within me
Uses each letter you know in unique and over used combinations to sting me
And slay me.

You dance
Delicately
Bolder now
Scattered and varying
But always taking a chance

Because you are the words on the page.
Live well, kind words.