I can't help this mind of mine. 

I can't tell if this is real or I only will it,

I can't tell if this is how it'll be,

or if you're just another force for me

to assess and ignore,

stress and deliver.

Because day after day all I get from you 

is Hey. 

I'll give you my entirety and still it feels like more,

You give me a glance and we both fall on the floor.

I rise each time

with a bloody knee, purple skin
(why are you okay with this?)
with a bite mark, ribs bent
(can you stop?)