I remember being cuddled up next to you on the green coach
I'd say it was about a year ago by now
and I asked you, out of the blue and from the sky,
whether or not you were happy.

I kept worrying at your answers like they were a string of beads
a necklace with a special charm hidden on its strand
searching for the round, warm bead of truth

But when I found it, it was not how I expected it to be
instead, I catch my fingers on jagged edges and a black rusted coat
Of course I'm not happy
you finally snap
I have no life, caring for all of you

I lifted that charm and chain off your shoulders and put it around my neck

You sagged, as if you hadn't realized how much
effort it had taken to hold up all that weight
because who would've thought it would take so much out of you
to cover up just one grain of the truth?

You asked me then
as a common courtesy
a return of a favor
out of the correct assumption that the asker always wants what they're asking for

Are you happy?
you ask

I say of course
and I'm a better liar than you are
or maybe you don't see that
people wear necklaces on their chests, the way I see it
so you don't push like I did

Or maybe the truth is you don't really want to know.
That seems about ugly enough, hurts just enough when you catch your fingers on it.

Not too much hurt though,
I understand you
for who in their right mind, would want to take the chains of someone else's pain?

You don't really want to know what's in my head.
I don't really want you to know what's in my head.
I tuck my necklace chain deep under my shirt, so deep under, that it melds through my chest, and you would have to stop my heart and cut me open to get it out.