i think i may be a coward.
in this lonely house, shadows scare me,
in the crowds, loneliness.
loud voices make me shrink,
silent insults crush me more.
afraid to get lost in books,
also worried if i should lose words.
should i dream or not i hesitate,
and dread the waking moment too.
i’ve locked up my tongue or i might,
come undone by the truths it hides.
dying to be touched by you, but unglued
by the prospect of inadequacy.
i drink my coffee hot to mask my sighs,
and always know location of exit doors.
my eyes are lowered or you might ask
for that rare smile i stole from you.
i look for safe places to hide, wrapped
in this long list of mostly unwritten fears.
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