to write I'd have to tell you where my heart's at,
how I feel and what I think about the issues;
and the truth is, I don't want to.
I want to keep the walls up
– at an arm's length –
so my pretend strength won't be seen for the cracks
that mark its fabled corner of possession.
now the mortar, brick by brick, builds thick
and keeps the dogs out, keeps the monsters at bay;
that space keeps the best away, too.
maybe I'm alone in here, but at least my secrets are safe
in here, no friend could betray in here; no two faces could
lie and say they love me.
I am at peace here.
But I still don't want to write it.