Anger

I stand amidst a crowd,

Though the voices and echoing footsteps seem to have disappeared.

There is only one face I see.

Your face.

As my hands clench up,

Pressed into such a tight fist,

My knuckles go white,

And my nails dig deep into my skin.

But in this moment, I don't care.

My teeth grind against each other.

My breath seeps from my nostrils in hot waves.

I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

In the heat of my head.

The heavy whisps of breaths don't disappear.

The day wanes,

But the feeling remains.

Growing bigger with each passing minute.

Turning into a burning desire

To scream

To yell

Until my fist comes into contact with the plaster of a white painted wall.

And again.

Over and over.

Until not only is my hand seeped in red ooze,

But the battered wall is as well.

I stretch the cracked knuckles,

Trying to regain feeling in the hand.

And feeling in the heart.

The feeling that had grown numb with rage.

My heaving breaths finally slow,

Though I find a small part of myself is still enraged.

And if will be,

Unless I can find a way to let it go.

To forgive you.