You tell me it hurts and I ask you how. Is it dull is it sharp 

Is it over and over 

Is it only when prone? 

You tell me of pain: 

it hurts in your chest— 

chest, it hurts, do I know? 

 

When we argue, 

I can’t help but 

disengage instead of 

go away, 

or misunderstand instead of 

didn’t mean to, 

or apologize instead of 

I’m sorry. 

 

When we argue, 

I can only squint through your sound, whether it seems ‘madmadmad’ or ‘sadsadsad’. 

 

When you heave from the feeling in your heart, tug it two-handed out your throat, 

when you wrangle it into your words, it is all ‘hurthurthurt’ and none of 

aching, 

burning, 

shooting, 

radiating, 

gnawing, 

and what’s the point of knowing 

when I don’t know yours.

 

…

 

Two languages coexist throughout this poem. The language represented by the unitalicized writing is favored by the speaker; the language represented by the italicized words is favored by the person experiencing the pain. This poem explores the gap between languages in relation to the expression and communication of pain and hurt, both physical and emotional.