drops of champagne

be vulnerable, but only with a mask.

i could come up with millions
of metaphors to describe our love.
or maybe i could scream
until my lungs give out,
but i've been underwater.
drowning in the absence
of you.

i'll never understand you,
and even if i did,
it was only the version you wanted me to find.
as if you kept all the others,
locked in a box,
hidden behind all the worn
out clothes of the closet
that was in your mind.

but if i had any idea,
i'm guessing those versions
were like masks
you'd wear.

if you saw the slightest bit of
pain evident in my face,
you quickly turn around
with a new look on yours.
one where i couldn't see
the plastic of the lies you told.

but i do remember,
the time i got close.
too close.

it was a summer evening,
on your porch as smoke
from the burnt out joint
rests in between my fingers,
lingers around our faces.

you knew,
because i had gotten too close,
that it was time for the end of me.

i remember that look.
it wasn't made of plastic,
and for sure as hell
wasn't made from fear.
it was you,
staring deeply into my eyes,
with pain and a taste of frustration.

because someone like you,
who never knew the real feeling
of pulling back the curtain of vulnerability,
knew that i was getting too close.

even when i wanted to be.

and if you were to ask me,
how someone like i fits into
your complex life,
i'd also be a mask
i think i'd fit quite nicely.

- zmh