So my therapist asked me, "Would you want her to read your poems?"

I feel like there's a poem in that somehow,

but I'm too heartbroken over it to write it,

because the truth is I don't know the answer...

I mean she doesn't know me and I fear she never really did

but I also would not want her to be hurt by my words,

yet still, if she doesn't understand then she is already being hurt by the unknown, the lack of understanding, by the misunderstanding itself:

it's a paradox.