Must Be Fear

Your irises always sing an aqua harmony,
but I don’t see their shades, when you
sit me down to hear your tale.

If the tension in the air is any clue, there must be fear dancing
in the wrinkles around your eyes,
but I am trying to count colors. I focus to discern.

You murmur that you’re happy, glancing down and to the right.
Your pupil floats like a fish.
I hope I look like an angel.

“They always say these conversations are hard, but-“

I trust you’ll say “better”,
but you say, “They’re much worse in reality.”

I realize your hope had been
that I would feel happy. I wish I loved
like an angel. You wish you
didn’t feel like a devil. I wonder what god
has the image I reflect.

2 thoughts on “Must Be Fear

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