My hands won’t stop shaking.
I ask them to stop, but they refuse to listen
so I hide them underneath the table.
“It’s gonna be alright”, I tell them,
“Just don’t touch him”
He leaves eventually,
uncomfortable by my presence
and I beg my lungs to burst,
polite as one could be,
but they don’t.
Never do, these fuckers.
Where did we go wrong?
Come back, talk to me.
Please.
Little Pocket Journal 