You can’t take words back.
Once they’re out there.
And as per usual, in my hurt, I withdraw inside myself, and you stare carelessly at me as though you haven’t a clue.
As to what you’ve said.
What you’ve done.
But you should know this.
There’s a spot, on the back of your neck, near the base of your skull.
That in my painfully defenseless moments, when you’ve struck me without cause, I picture.
And imagine what it would be like to strike back at you in the only place I can seem to find where you are truly vulnerable.