Reiteration

I'm tired and I'm cold.
All of these questions are growing old.
I hate to say this but,
most secrets are just better left untold.



You are so brave.
I've seen you talk about pretty much everything,
from that time you tossed your cookies on your homework
in seventh grade
to when your mother passed away
a couple years back.

I even remember when you talked about how your dad
had that heart attack.
I memorized
how your eyes
looked when you were sad
so I could
prevent that
in the future.



I think some things
are just better left in the past.
If nothing ever lasts,
why look back?
Why
should I
retell a tale
I've told a thousand times?

"You've heard my story,
now I think it's about time
I hear yours."
For...?
You know my name,
my birthday,
how I take
my tea
and coffee.
What you get is what you see.
Anything else is mine,
for my eyes and memory
only.

No one is allowed beneath the surface.
In the six years I've spent with you,
you of all people should know this.
As far as you should be concerned,
my past doesn't exist.

Yes, I'm scared
but who wouldn't be?
I'm not brave like you;
I'm stuck being just me.

Trust that
if I could
I would
tell you everything.
But right now
I just don't see the point in trying
because
no one is allowed beneath the surface.

You of all people should know this.