I'm still scared of you,

even all the way in far-away, childishly afraid. Fragile, such a woman. Something passed over your face one time, maybe twice, and I thought it might be murder. I recognize it; I see it in the mirror from time to time. You have a faith-based non-plan-plan and it includes me; I am your missing rib and you know, you KNOW I will see myself in your side one day and in the mean time, you are longsuffering. You are patient when you know the ending.

I will not talk, will duct tape my mouth, cut my tongue, will change my name. I will never speak again. If I could still speak I would not admit that I miss the boy in your eyes and the blueness or the adoration. You are a menace to me know and I was foolish to admit to myself or you or anyone that I cared, even as a friend, I am a woman. Women should be extra careful about caring, lest some man-shaped-boy gets the wrong idea.