Layered

Alanna tells me
I’m like an onion.
She reassures me that it’s not
because I’m stinky
or that I make her cry.
But that she met me
with ragged motorcycle jacket skin,
faded and worn
from traveling all of these years.

Peel back the crinkling callous
And she might catch a smile.
I’ll laugh at her silly jokes.
Don matching rubber-duck onesies.
Skip through the streets hand in hand
And howl lyrics from our favorite songs
Into the night air.

Peel again
And I’ll share
My complaints of people that annoy me.
The way no one seems to know how to walk in the city.
How I hate to be manipulated.

Peel again
And I’ll tell her about the things that make me sad
Like inequality
And poverty.
I’ve lived in a bubble for a long time
but now it has burst into a truth too hard to swallow.

Peel once more
And I’ll tell her about my grandfather.
The way his presence shaped my childhood
And made me hate the pop of a beer can
Or that the drunkenly slurred shouts kept me up each night.
The way I hate to be alone on my birthday
Because it reminds me that he’s gone.

Peel back another layer
And I’ll tell her about my father.
About my unrequited yearning for his attention.
About my unrealistic expectations for love
And my desperate search to find anyone that isn’t him.
For anyone who will put in the time
To peel and peel and peel
And assemble my million puzzle pieces
that all look the same
And quickly adapt to my hots and my colds
Without their eyes watering from the sting I leave in the air.

Peel back again
And I’ll tell her everything that makes me feel naked.
That depression feels like a cozy home
That will always leave the light on
and welcome me with open arms.
That my anxiety is like an alarm clock
Ringing from my chest.
It starts my day each morning
Reminding me I’m alive.

Peel back once more
And I’ll show her
the days I don’t get out of bed.
The days I have no appetite at all.
When my biggest fight is with myself.
When all at once
I need to be held
And left alone.
I need to be loved
And ignored.

At the center she will find
My poems
How closely I clutch the people I love
That my heart is big but made of glass
The way I hope to make the world a better place.
She will find my voice
Shackled and chained down
by my pursuit of perfection
and fear of failing.

And despite the smell
And the fact that I might stain her cheeks with tears
She is still here to explore
The reveal of another layer.