Don’t Talk

I don’t talk
about it;
I like to talk about it,
I’d like to talk about it,
I don’t talk
about it.
I don’t talk
about it because
of the look on everyone’s face.

The look that means
The look that means
The look that means
The look that means
less than,

in the eyes
and on the lips and tongue
of every child who has ever
heard the call to be

a Bully

and answered,
which is a lot more
than will ever ‘fess up.
I don’t talk about it
because of what it will bring me;

the silence grants me more
than any words ever will.

This entry was posted in Love Poems, On Depression, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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