Anniversary

“Arguable” she said, when I implied he must have known.

“No one asked you anyway” she said, and abashed, I looked away.

“Now you’re doing it again” she said, and I imagined that I must be.

“It’s not about you” she said, and I wondered, if so, how I was always in the wrong.

Vulnerability makes her defensive, I told myself, wounded by the wounded party,

Explaining it away, that every time I spring to her defence, I fall upon my sword,

Remembering that it was I who stood up to take her part,

She made no plea for aide. Save the crying.

“Are you just going to stand there” she said, as bleeding, I searched for the balm in my blood.

“Really? That’s all you’ve got?” she said, and emptied out, I pried my rib cage open.

“You don’t care about me” she said, and though it didn’t feel that way, I took her at her word.

For Real Poetic's anniversary acrostic challenge: