Treat me as the gentle thing I am.
Not just when it suits you.
"You don't understand, love"
Oh, but I understand.
That you holding my hand draws eyes.
I understand that eyes lead to words,
Which become the flimsy foundations
I know you detest rumors and I understand.
Really, I do.
Maybe I just wish that
I meant more to you than
An ear free of the itch
Of others words,
Particularly the false ones