• I don't know the difference between
    happiness and your hand in mine.
    I don't know the difference between
    terror and your eyes on mine.

    But your voice is heavy
    with something like silence,
    as my questions go unanswered
    and insecurities get gulped back
    down and gagged on
    until I can swallow no more.

    So they are hidden in every drawer.
    stashed in every closet. And
    gripped tight by the monsters of youth,
    who lay dormant under our bed
    with the snores of,
    "just wait, just wait..."

    The problem is
    I don't know the difference
    between sex and forfeit,
    and I don't know the difference
    between my thoughts and yours
    anymore.