I still look at you. From the way your eyes dilate whenever you're mad, to the weird tappings you make when you can't stand the person in front of you.
I still listen to you. From the flat tone you give when you don't feel like it, to the harshness of the words you throw.
And I'm still here, right in front of you, looking, listening, as you vent all your anger out on me, telling me how worthless I am.
I still stayed.
The question is, will you? Can you look me in the eyes and read the pain I'm in? Can you listen to this silent plead of mine to stop shouting? Are you willing enough to stay when I tell you to leave?