Care
You site there quietly,
Touching her frequently,
Bt not me.
And if I say nothing
Then you talk about me,
Saying
That I keep silent for attention.
I hear you both,
And my face burns red from anger.
I hear you because you talk at a volume which I can hear,
But just barely.
And then when I talk,
You don't ask me what's wrong.
You just tell me not to burn.
Not to cut.
It doesn't matter that I don't.
You just want to warn me it seems.
So I accept your advise with a grain of salt
As though my brain runs on tools which you can use to control what I think,
what I feel.
And you pretend to care when it suits you.