Untitled Poem

Your voice
has a sharp edge.
It cuts me
like a piece of broken glass,
and yet,
I stand here
just waiting for
another of your barbs.
It hurts,
so much that I can't breathe,
can't think,
can't move.
My heart aches,
reaching out to you,
trying to make it work,
hoping that you'll love me again,
but you won't.
You never have.
And somewhere deep inside,
in the recesses of my mind,
I know that.