Hidden

I can’t love.

My mind is a mess

of twisted thoughts

I’ve shaped over the years

to help me do

what I thought I was supposed to do,

to help me say

what I thought I was supposed to say.

Someone said hi,

I said hi back.

Someone said I love you,

I said I love you back

because I thought

that’s what I was supposed to do.

I always waited

for the woman to climax

because I thought that was

what I was supposed to do.

The polite thing to do.

But my heart

is this sunken hidden thing

I don’t think I have access to

underneath all these thoughts

twisted like a mess of spaghetti,

twisted by my need to fit in,

by my need to attempt

to be human.