When minor mishaps are gathered
then counted against her,
the darkening sky closes in.
His thunder reverberates.
A deluge of abuse beats around her
as she shivers and shrivels.
His lightning-strike words are sharp.
The shards of his mirrored eyes
glitter and wound.
He lobs more hailstone grenades
into this entrenched, habitual war zone.
They say
it's only words.
She'd rather be killed with kindness.
She grits her teeth,
biting down on her own anger,
and keeps packing her bag.
Words can't hurt me... words can't hurt me...
unless she lets them.
There will be sunshine somewhere else.
His rain is over.
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