Confessions
There are some things
I love mustard on my pizza.
that I don’t say out loud
I have to write with the same pen in the same notebook.
because I don’t want to seem strange or silly
I love cheesy werewolf romance stories.
or be judged.
I only brush my teeth once a day.
My words are filtered,
I dream of falling in love,
edited, curated, censored, sometimes even forbidden
like, all the time.
by myself.
Seriously – every breathing male is a potential candidate.
I’m scared of making a mistake
I’m scared of being a mistake.
and of being excluded,
I don’t know if I can ever forgive my dad.
ignored, banished, ostracized, even simply called annoying
His death would have been easier than the divorce
for being too different.
because I wouldn’t know he isn’t who I thought he was.
Even now, I can’t say everything,
What if someone finds out these are my words?
in a poem I’ll post on a random blog.
On a blog no one reads.
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