vulnerability is a forbidden language that sits 

in my gritted teeth 

            and in the waterline of my eyes. 

toes tightened to the ground 

         and nails to my palms. 

the tears pricking at my eyes will only be on the verge

and never leave the place they call home. 

my emotions, like a body covered in layers of clothing in a scorching summer, 

will make sure to keep sorrow in the back pockets and pretend it doesn’t exist. 

people i’ve dated say they can never tell what i’m thinking,

my mother insistently taught me how not to be vulnerable each time i tried to be. 

(she wanted me to learn from her mistakes)

i’m now a master at keeping the thoughts inside my head

   and the heart anywhere but on my sleeve. 

peeling a pomegranate is romantic 

until it bleeds scarlet on your fingers that you cannot wash away, 

which is to say, i don’t want to be cleaning your fingers 

just for them to wipe away my tears and so, 

i will delicately hold your heart and keep it safe 

from sword-like tongues and tightened fists 

(i’m protecting you from myself) 

i will listen to you like my favorite song 

and gatekeep it from a world so cruel. 

don’t be afraid and tell me why you don’t like pistachios and walnuts. 

is it because you do not like breaking something out of it’s shell? 

       or is it that you despise hard exteriors? 

       or do you dislike what lies inside? 

either way, i won’t abandon you, 

(yes i will, i always do)