He doesn't know the effect
he has on me
leaving me for almost too long,
but always returning.
He doesn't realize my distress
stretching for an imaginary throne
as if he is a prize
I have no right to own.
He doesn't laugh along,
he's no suck, no fool
telling it as it is,
as it should be said.
He doesn't need to know
the insecurities that cloud my mind
as I hold back my attention seeking impulses,
lies created for my gain.
He shouldn't read these poems
a steady stream of teenage doubts
each piece contradicting another
as I figure out where when and how to continue.
~~~~~
3/5-11/13
