The bruises you cause on my skin
Are lighter than the pains you cause to my heart.
I would rather live with the bruises
Than die of the pains.
I would rather disrespect you and live with the wounds, feeling light inside, forgiving and moving on
Than lock them in, carrying a burden I can't bear, hating and then die to perish.
I don't expect you to understand
Unless you were eighteen
Struggling with a high blood pressure.