Wednesday, February 17, 2016

I had the thought 
that if you could see me in my private moments
that you may fall in love with my reactions;
how I feel 
when a smile cracks across the face of the squirmy boy
I'm helping read a book when I say
"I'm so impressed!"
If you could see
when I'm packed away in traffic
covering rap verses like I own the pain 
      or party they were inspired by, 
how my eyes stare off into a mental sea
     & come back to think of something funny, 
how I rest my head on top of a fat, familiar dog 
or even that long sigh before I step in the shower,
I had the thought that this could make you love me;
if you could see
how I want to share my love-
       but it's uncomfortable 
    for me too,
because I feel like it can't all fit,
     it's too much to carry,
it's too heavy for you;
     what was meant to hold you
chokes your definition of it.
But while it always felt like it was suffocating you,
I felt like I was speaking a different language, 
one you were never taught,
      one you avoided understanding,
& you don't want to read it,
       you don't want to see. 

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