You don't know me yet
You don’t really know me yet
But you will.
Through my pen, one tear stain at a time
Until I am lying naked on the page.
With my speech so often mute about what lies beneath,
I will be unveiled by written words.
You will see the curves of my sorrows and the beauty of compassion that moves me.
Taste sarcasm at the corners of my lips, the salty sweetness of things that bring me joy.
Hear the quiet murmurs of my fears, the quickening pulse of all that holds me back.
Smell the sweat of my intellect, heavy probing curiosity.
Touch the scars that make me who I am, thrusting deep into my wounds.
You will read me, taste me, hear me, see me,
Spurts of ink leaving us sticky with intimacy
So that when speech fails
You will know me.
And we’ll be side by side in the dark world
and you’ll utter those three coveted words:
“I get it.”