Heart

Why do you hate me?

Why does every time I feel anything,

You send logic to attend to me?

Like I’m some skeleton in the closet.

You have feelings!

You wear them on your shoulders!

But you never embrace them.

Imagine, being hugged by one you love,

And you don’t even have the decency to hug them back.

That’s me.

You dismiss me every time I catch feelings,

Not knowing you starve the poor child.

You take water from a desert.

You ignore the infant’s screams.

I am empty!

I spend too much effort trying to get you to notice me,

But you decided a long time ago, I’m a weakness.

You hate the idea of emotional vulnerability,

Which is why you have to write it out with words.

I beg you, say what you feel!

You like her.

You really like her.

And it hurts because you know she’s another one.

Another beautiful you have to let pass you by

Because someone else already has her eye,

And soon enough, her hand,

And you can stand to be the man on the outside.

But you didn’t plan this, I did.

That’s why when you daydream, I let loose.

What else should I do at a buffet when I’ve been starved?

When’s the last time you had a hug that meant something?

A hug that makes you exhale an ounce of happiness

Because her scent is pure bliss.

You can’t even remember.

What one, two, three years?

Why did you have to choose to let nothing get to you?

So much to celebrate, but you quiet me down,

Telling me it’s just another day.

Another moment.

Another breath.

Bigger and better is ahead,

Don’t get caught up here.

But God, here feels so good.

Just let this moment linger...

Please...

Cry... I know you are tired.

Jump... because I know you are so excited.

Shout... because I felt that praise.

Feel... because I know how long it’s been.

Emotional vulnerability is not a sin.

Tell them about her,

Even if she does get married and you get depressed.

Tell them how you cry tears thinking of your wedding day.

Tell them how your heart aches for those lost in sin.

Tell them how you daydream about winning an Oscar...

And you cry...

Real tears...

Because you worked for it...

Even now...

You work for it.

I am not a release in the shower.

I am not an expression hidden from prying eyes.

I feel... you feel.

Shouldn’t people get to know that?