Under The Rug

When someone says they like me
I do not believe them.
Instead
I am convinced that they like
the version of me in their brain
Scrubbed clean of many things
That came before them.

I keep those parts of me locked away
Safely swept under a beautiful rug
In the part of my brain furnished with doubt
It covers the floorboards of my mind.
If I keep these secrets
Maybe you will stay.

But as soon as a harsh wind blows
The rug betrays me
The monsters waft out
Like dust in the air.
And I can no longer breathe
Stifled by the past.

You will then head for the door
Just as the others have
I do not blame you.
This was never your burden to bear.

All I ask
Is that you close the door behind you
And leave me with the dust.
I hope one day it settles for good.