Poem: What’s Left Unsaid

I don’t think I’m good enough.

I do think you’ll leave me.

You’re not what I fantasized about when I pleasured myself all those lonely years.

You’re the best I can do.

We won’t ever be on the cover of a glossy magazine dedicated to the beautiful (and interesting).

We will learn to be content with the things we own and the nice card our parents send on our anniversary.

She will help me delude myself into believing I’m irresistible.

He will listen to you.

They won’t care what happens next.

They will harbor their own unspoken fears.

All of us, smiling or crying, will go on until we can’t anymore. And then nothing more will be said.

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