I’d let you read the things I wrote about you

I’d let you read the things I wrote about you,

but I’m afraid your view will change.

I'm afraid you might see a side you never noticed,

maybe start to think I’m strange.

I’d let you read my poems,

but I’m scared you might see a resemblance

in the way I talk about deep dark brown that feels like home

and your eyes that I used as templates.

I’d let you have my letters,

But I'm worried you’ll notice how much you hurt me.

When you read all the words I was too scared to say,

maybe you’ll realize why you're called “he”.

I’d let you have a piece of me,

but you’ve already taken twenty,

and maybe one day you’ll notice

how I’m falling apart from just that many.