Poem: He Asks Me

He Asks Me

and I give no good answer,
am reticent, evasive,
but you decide
to tell him
what you think
is what I mean,
what is true,
what I wouldn't say,
what is not a meaning
I would intend.
Your words reflect
what you think of me,
what you notice
but do not understand.
It is not that they are untrue,
but they are only about a surface.
Besides, it is not even that:
I was answering in my own way.
I have a right to say and mean
my own answers.  They are mine
as the question was for me, too.
Your words took from me.
That you thought you could clarify
what I was not saying is wrong,
that you believed it your place
is something more and worse.

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