Friday, January 26, 2024

poem

 Neologism

I never thought the things I was interested in

Would be interesting to anyone else.

I never thought of who I was 

As just a singular iteration 

Of the same thing playing out 

On the inside of everybody else 

No I was different

An impostor faking it until

I figured out what everyone else

Already seemed to know.

I never learned to dance

Or whistle or give a proper wink.

If I think too much about what I want to say

Before I say it, it comes out trembling

And the words run off to therapy. 

I’m still more afraid of what I’ve done

Than the unknown that’s surely coming.

If someone says they’re proud of me

What I hear is that they might love me 

So I can’t let them know I’m

Just another selfish ass

And deserving of total scorn.

They might stop loving me

Or worse, they wouldn’t,

Maybe pull me closer, double down,

Love me even more.

But that would feel like something else

Not love as I defined it, but different. 

I would need a new word added to the private 

Dictionary locked in the cabinet of my head

A word I would never say out loud

In front of whoever was right there 

When I started to feel it happening


1/26/24

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