I would rather be known
as that girl who asks
if you want to hear a poem
than that drunk girl at the club
I'm finding that not everyone
will listen, let alone undertsand
when I expose myself to them
pulling back each rib
one at a time
depending on which
poem I choose
I'll lose blood for nothing
they don't even see the
crimson puddle on the floor
but it's there and sometimes
the people I chose to let it
out for aren't even
listening to the poem
some decline the offer
entirely
I'm going to promise myself
right now
there will never be a time
when I would say no
to a glimpse of someone
else's heart
I already feel too far
away from
humanity
often trapped
in what can seem
an artless world
and so I will never
say no
or look away if you
show me yours
I'll show you mine
and pretty soon
our chests are both
exposed
two tortured hearts
the metranome to
our so-called lives.