I fear

of all kinds, haunt me
in the words
that I don’t grasp in
first attempt
in the conversations
that require me to smile;

I see a dog
its tail wagging
in rhythm to
the beats of my heart
that is no more
in its own head

it fears
the collapsing roof
the absence of words
the want to choke people
all of them
– with love
but from a distance
with ropes made
of detachment
and desire
and despair;
and it wants
nothing more than
to run away-
from everything alive
and kicking and
making me live

I fear
people
and their hearts
that don’t beat for
one another
but only those
that smile back;

I fear
people
and their hearts
that have never seen
their own fingers-
tapping on my chest
calling out to the
alive in me;

I fear
people
and their hearts
that don’t speak
the language my vagina does-
the language of coming,
and not wanting to go back
the moaning, the soft breathing,
the intent eyes, the sore lips;
I fear people
and their obsession
with words;
I fear people
and their compulsive
need to alienate silence;

I fear people
and
I fear the
poems they write:
full of metaphors
and analogies
and death and
compassion
but they forget-
I grew up on
the alphabets
of silence
and colors;

I fear my blue
means their
dread;
I fear my yellow
makes them happy;
I fear my pink
makes them opine;
I fear my black
makes them create memes;
I fear my plum and peach
and teal and green-
they all make
you talk, don’t they?

You talk about them
in art galleries
in textile stores
at night
drunk amongst
your upper
middle class friends
in that photo
you just took of my
fear-
you talk of my fear in
your own words;
and yet

and yet, here I am
misunderstood
judged
silent
fearing

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