A Personal Anthology

This poem is a small anthology of the pieces of myself I once shared with someone who asked to see my poetry. It gathers the quiet truths I revealed, the tender pages I unveiled, and the ache that followed. It is a record of what it meant to be seen — and what it cost.

A Personal Anthology

I unveiled myself,

Shyly, at first.

Bit by bit,

Then more brazenly,

Peeling off

Layer after

Layer.

Word by word --

Page by page --

Until there was only a

Couple of blank pages

Thinly veiling my most

Secret thoughts.

Perhaps nothing that

He'd never seen before

In other women;

But something

I'd never shared before.

Laid bare- an open book,

The binding stiff,

With ribbons marking

Some tear stained pages,

Some perfumed—

Others with imprinted red lips

And his name scrawled

On the corners of the pages.

I’d felt encouraged

To open the pages,

To reveal who I truly was,

How I really felt,

And wanted and needed.

Perhaps revealing too much-

Things he didn’t understand,

Things he’d never known,

Perhaps revealing things

He wished now he didn’t know…

Perhaps he couldn’t see the truth

Through the tears in his own eyes.

Perhaps it was too raw

Too honest or too painful.

But he closed it and put it down.

He turned his head, looked away, Overwrought and overwhelmed,

He awkwardly turned and

Slowly and silently

He

Walked

Away.