Saturday Afternoon
You will never know from me,
Because I cannot bring myself to tell you.
You could run away, or hate me,
Or laugh at me, in my confession.
I don’t want to see the look on your face
As you try to, however kindly,
Tell me that you cannot take what I have offered you.
You would try to be kind,
Because you are my friend,
And above all I know this to be true.
But you would still, in your kindness,
Place the blade so gently into my heart,
That I would die from the care that you take.
I can hear your voice in my head,
Speaking my name so casually, so friendly;
“You know that you are my special friend.”
Yes, I know, and I am afraid that if I tell,
If I say what is so heavy in my chest,
What is shouting to come from behind my eyes,
That our easy trust, our camaraderie, our bond,
Will be thrown out like so many meaningless words.
And I couldn’t stand that.
And I don’t know what is worse. To love you
And watch you always only be my friend, or to tell you
And watch you walk away from me forever.
And worse yet – to see you with someone else
And to always listen to the rushing of my poisoned blood.
So for now,
Since I don’t know,
I will stay quiet.
I will wear my same face for you –
The one you have come to trust.
I will always be just where you expect me to be –
Solid, strong, kind and loving –
And you will never know from me
What you do not need to know.
11/26/96
