Like in the dead of night when I put one leg out into the brisk air because combined with your body heat,
The blanket is just too warm.
I feel exposed but hidden all the same.
Or when I push one sleeve up my arm, but keep the other hidden beneath the cloth because the evidence would smack you too hard in the face.
I don’t want you to feel the pain that I’ve kept hidden.
I feel shielded, but barely; behind a veil that is trying to reveal the hurt I’m sheltering because you were just too naïve to believe I’d sank that low.
The ocean pulls the anchor from the ship and gravity helps.
I can’t see the bottom, but I know I’m close.