Dear stepmom,
You should know that I wanted to talk to you.
I had it all planned out in my head -
How I was going to ask about the baby's birthday
And try to start one of those things called conversations.

But instead we sat
And didn't breathe a single syllable to each other.
And how am I supposed to open up, when
I part my lips and nothing comes out?
When the words in my brain are trampled
By the thoughts that tell me I'm going to do it wrong?

A heaving anxiety governs my mind's playground.
There's a fence around it with high walls.
On some days
They are stronger than others.
I have trouble talking with a lot of people,
But you're a special case.

Dear stepmom,
You should know that I not only love you,
But I also like you.
Don't worry about winning me
Because you've already won.
You won years ago,
When you stuck around,
When you talked with me about Twilight
And when you never tried to parent,
Because you knew it wasn't your place.

Dear stepmom,
I have a strange sort of social anxiety
That creeps up when we're alone.
I cannot tell you why
Or how to fix it
But I'll try to try harder
Because I think
(Just maybe)
You have some too.

But until then,
We might sit and suffer
In a thick, murky silence
Every once in a while.