What you see is what you love.
And who I am is more.

My cheeks are smudged, and no matter how many times
I scrub,
I can’t wash it away.

Dirt, Freckles,
Ashes:
are all mixed on my face.
and it burns.

I’m sorry I can’t make you happy.

Eventually, The girl who used to listen—
has to talk.
And sometimes I forget to listen.
And sometimes I talk over you.

But at least I talk.
And I don’t lie.
And I don’t pretend to know reality.
But I’m here.
I am real.

And I’m sorry you fell for half of me.
But, because you pull away—
You’ll never get to know the rest.

and maybe you don’t want to

Well, half is not whole— and
half is worthless.

I hope you are empty without me.

10/09/2002

Posted on 10/11/2002
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