I know I talk
like I hate the world:
people, places, things...
Nouns and subjects, verbs and all...
That's how I talk.
I know I act
like I'm removed...
Prudish, shy, reserved.
...Like you should never love me,
hold, or touch me...
That's how I act.
I know I look
any place but
your eyes, or hair, or face,
but honestly I want to stare;
memorize each trace.
That's why I look away.
I do not hate you,
do not fear you;
do not wish to flee...
But I fear myself.
...I fear the quick'ning of my heart
(and so I leave you be).
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