Are you for real?
It is a question
I keep asking
Over and over
Again.
For over thirty years
I've been taught
And retaught
That I held nothing
A man would want
And no one before
Has ever tried
To disprove
Me of the notion.
Now you have come
With your honeyed words
And easy manner
And I am stymied
By your apparent acceptance
Of me and my faults;
I don't know
What to make of you...
Experience says "Run!"
Even as my lonely soul
Opens to you
Like a desert flower
After a rain.
Am I but a vessel
To be used
And then discarded,
Or do you, in fact,
Hold me
In some kind regard?
Tred gently with me,
A small voice pleads,
Lest I be lost
Forever.