"Smile," she says. She knows me well.
I pick up the heavy corners of my mouth and,
Hammer and nails in hand, I attach them high on my cheeks.
She nods and smiles and takes my hand.

"You are happy?" she asks but there was no question.
I nod anyway, despite the fact that she knows, she knows me well.
I believe it because she said it and I won't question it and that's good.
Or perhaps it's bad, I still can't tell.

"Look at her," she murmurs and I've never heard that much scorn;
Her face twists into a disgusted caricature more bitter than bile.
She pats my hand absentmindedly and I do not copy her expression
But instead take her gentle reminder to smile.

"Not them. Not that," she tells me so surely and so I look away
She knows me so well, knows what I want and need
So well that I don't need to know myself. So well that I can't begin to.
She sees my doubt, reaches into the soil, and snatches up the seeds.

"Careful, be careful!" she implores me and I remember to be afraid.
She cares for me more than most, more than myself,
If anything were to happen to me, she'd be lost, she'd waste away.
I make sure to panic and underestimate my health.

"Don't speak." she says quickly, before I can make a request;
She wraps me up  in blankets of misplaced pride.
I bite my tongue and practice the art of restraint so as not to shame her.
When I feel the want, I avert my eyes.

"Did you forget?" she whispers and I am shaken and unsure.
I search my memories but I cannot recall whatever I'd forgotten.
She giggles but she is not happy and I scold myself harshly with a smile.
She does not stop me so I continue without end.

"Come back. Stay." she bids me and I truly want to;
She is everything I have ever known and she knows me so well.
There will be days where I will return to the warm circle of her arms.
Whether that's good or bad, I still can't tell.