No excuse

Every love song and "I love you," every "We can work this out." Any chance at ever trusting, for now, is torn to shreds. Whispered threats and then an apology--broke like a promise (broke like a rib).
Any I know I sound paranoid, I know it's my problem, I know it's my fault. And this is just something that I've imagined and it's wrong of me to make all this up. For that I want you to feel like I had to feel--like I had to watch my fucking back. And my reputation, my face and my sex and my heart. Every insult and every put down, every "Just wait 'til we get home." Every arm twist you hide under the table while you smile and joke with my friends.
I can't understand what makes you do this.
And I know I should try to see past my anger, because you need help. But so far, I haven't been able to find room in my heart to accept what you've done--only what you deserve.