i want to read you
the words that spill out,
ink on whatever is closest,
but for years now
i've been writing about
***, sadness, and sensations-
all wrapped round whoever
it is that's claimed a
piece of me

what will you think
of my weaknesses
spoken aloud?
swirling around the
room, bumping into
you, waiting to
be judged

i want to show you
what begins as a breath
and ends as a tale of
twisted love, but
i'm afraid all you'll
think of is me reading
the poems i write
about you to the
next one