Wait a minute
You didn't tell me that you
only wanted to know
half of me
and now
as you take the scalpel
and slice me in two
I feel guilty that my sentence
was misinterpreted
I am a poet
more or less
depending on
who you ask
I am me
and I am
BOLD
and I am
vulnerable
and therefore
susceptible to
having feelings
and
hurting them
This is who I am.
An ugly
beautiful
creature.
I am weak but capable
of bringing a man down
with my honesty
and insecurities
I am what I write.
But that is
only the half of it.
This is not a game
This is me.
Will you have me take back words
that saved me from the ashes?
Will you have me let go of the one
that has always been there for me
regardless of the circumstances
of this constant predicament
that I got myself into
the day I was born?
I like to write
(I have to write)
even if
I don't always
like what I've written.
ADP 10 March 1999
