I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Sometimes I wish I could excise it with the sharpest of knives.
I don’t want you to see it.
I don’t want you to learn its secrets.
I’ve been called a closed book,
But only by those who have never learned how to turn the pages.
I don’t want you to possess that ability,
Lest you should use it against me.
It has taken me this long to build my defenses,
To recover some trace of the confidence I once had
Before it was trampled and spit on by another.
I was never a hunter,
But I enjoyed the thrill of the chase,
Until what I caught proved to be my downfall.
I was never a player,
But I was never afraid to take chances either,
Until someone set my heart on fire and danced in the ashes.
Now I’m afraid of chances.
Now I’m afraid of feeling.
Now I’m afraid of everything.
But the fear doesn’t stop me from wanting,
And the wanting is because of you.
And I can never let you know.
I’ve gotten very good at hiding by now.
I’ve been doing it for a long time,
So long that it has become second nature.
I have crafted a suit of armor to be envied,
But for all that there are still chinks,
There are still tiny cracks visible to the skilled eye.
So what do I do now?
Do I keep to the shadows and hope you don’t see me?
Do I cover my heart with a layer of lies
And expect you to believe it?
I know I’m in trouble here
Because you have a way of seeing right through me.
I can only hope that if you do,
You’ll understand.