the poet behind the player

The poet
Behind the player
What lies behind his painted facade
He doesn't talk
About what's playing in his headphones
Most assume it's a song
But no
Poetry bleeds into his ears
The hymns of a broken heart
The silence in between gunshots of war
He feels beauty
And radiates it himself
People gather around to hear him talk
The first time he entered the room
I knew
He was different
The first time we spoke
He just laughed quietly
Scared
Of what?
Him.
He was scared to show
The poet
Behind the player
The people he surrounds himself with
Treat him like a joke
Teasing and hateful cruelty for him
They hate on his difference
And expect him to be like them
But not me...
I hate when he acts like them.
The people he surrounds himself with
Treat me like a toy
Winking and sly innuendos for me
Assuming I'll do what they wish
But not him
He apologizes on their behalf
Knowing they won't do it themselves
He listens to me cry
He listens to me rant
He gave me chance
Most times he's there for me
Other times he can't
He can't break down
He can't let them see
The poet
Behind the player
He won't tell them about the times we recite our favorite poems
Or when he found me hiding behind the stairs
Mascara leaving black tear stains down my porcelain cheeks
He glued the cracks in my heart together proving...
Nothing is to broken to fix...
He texts me links to poems that speak to him
Then sends me his own...
Our hearts bleed gold as we heal each others souls
I grew to love the poet
But the player got in the way
I just wanted a friend...
But his couldn't allow that.
Never did I realize
The poet
behind the player
Just wanted a chance
That I could give him...
But that still wasn't okay with them.
Now it's too late.
The poet has faded
The player overcame
All his inner beauty
Washed down the drain...
He doesn't speak to me
Or even look at me anymore
I never see him with his headphones in
Or a smile even...
I just wished...
for once...
Everyone let him be him.
The poet.
Not the player.