The D Spot

words once said cannot be un-said;
they remain
crinkled like paper in the trashcan
or
hidden like the razor in the cabinet under the sink.
You speak harshly and I fall senseless
to the ground
overcome
by your quiet lack of regard
for what it means to be nice.
Compliments have never flowed easy from your lips
compliments couched in criticisms are another story,
of course.
Someday will you tell me you love me
and make me believe it?
Someday will you really look at me
and instead of telling me ways to be better,
just take me in your arms
and let me cry there for a while?
Like the silent flame from the unattended candle
I smolder and go out.
Drowned in my own puddle of wax
and melting on the floor.