The Fort

I’m laughing with you underneath the covers.

We are fooling around like a couple of kids.
I haven’t built a fort like this, since I was nine.
I look over at you, wondering if this could be a sign.

Once you said I was different, and here I am alone.

Does my indifference cause anxiety for you?

I am your blank canvas now and I am scared.

I am scared of all the canvases sitting on my back shelf.

They are filled with rust and darkness, pain and scars.
I know you have them too. 

Here, under the covers, you reveal them to me,
no one has ever revealed their scars to me before.  

Not like this. 

Your pain is placed on a pedestal. You seem brave.

You seem awake. 

Your scars scare me.  I feel like I’m tiptoeing on the edge of danger when I’m with you.

Yet, under this fort, we are laughing as if we are nine. 

We are staying up all night

and I am hoping you are also scared of my scars.

Reviews

[Eva Rosehill]

Wow.. I loved the metaphors in this piece. How you used the canvas to represent how exposed we are for others to see. Such a thoughtful poem, thank you for sharing!