Today you asked me if you could read my poetry.

"It's personal", I murmured, and you shook your head.

"Everyone feels the same way inside" you said back.

Assuming you know exactly how I feel.

And maybe you really do.

 

I am conflicted.

I want you to see every inch of me

Every secret I've ever had

Every reason I am the way I am

I want to no longer have this murky water pooling at the bottom of my lungs

Restricting my life

 

And yet

I use poetry as a support, a lifeline,

As a ladder to climb out of the dark pit

That engulfs my mind

And leaves me empty

 

Without this privacy I fear that you will then be my walking cane

Carrying an enormous weight on your shoulders

Scrapes on every inch of your body

From the burden you now unwillingly bear

 

And I could never do that to you.