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Jan 2019
I do not know what I am
But she does-
Just as she envisions me,
I am intertwined with her fearfulness
Drowned out by a glass of wine

She is nervous
She thinks with the more I see
I will trade in everything that has made me
Sell it for some false narrative
One night where I feel I fit in
Or maybe, a man who does not see me
For everything she has made me

She thinks I don’t enjoy it
She thinks
She thinks
She thinks
She never says what she is thinking

She feels just like my father,
Sneaking in the dark
The difference being it is what she is
Swallowed whole by
And that of which he feeds

I guess-
They do not know what they are, either
They do not know what each other, is
Or who, exactly, they married
And I do not know what I am

I am intertwined in his nervousness
Tightly embraced for what feels like a strangle
Because it is wrong
In the form of another woman

He is scared
He thinks with the more I see
I will forget to see myself, and then
I will be lost in my own absence
Give it all up for
One night, with a man who does not fit
And all I will be is weak

He thinks I will fall weak
He thinks
He thinks
He thinks
He never says what he is thinking

He feels just like my mother,
Who is always on edge about him
As he is always on edge about me
Together, they are always on edge about me

I guess-
They do not know what I am, either
And I do not know what I am
But I recognize I am both; swallowed whole
By the dark and it is absolutely what I feed off of

I guess-
I am like my mother
And like my father

And we are all like each other.
Julia Betancourt
Written by
Julia Betancourt  19/New York
(19/New York)   
582
   Julia Betancourt
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