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To Kevin On An Anniversary (Or How I Learned to Fall Apart Only in Secret)


So little you know of man and mind,
So little you care.
Threats are a benzo; a warning sign,
But you're a shock therapist.

I have this friend—or at least we'll call her that,
Who wants to understand who I am,
Where I go at night.
But she won't for the sheer rawness of you.

She'll never know about how close Tito and I became,
Why my heart is most literally broken,
Or what it's like to hate what you love.
She's never seen frozen tears; pallid faces.

But it's a trade-off: she lives her life free.
Just remember there's a beauty to it, either way.
You just have to allow yourself see it.
Happy birthday, dear Horatio.

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