and I'll show you mine.
This isn't a contest,
there isn't a prize.
This is honesty.
Truth.
The bearing of souls.
Show me your wounds,
and I'll sew them closed.
Show me your love
and I'll look away.
Love is fatal to me,
a basilisk's gaze.
It turns me to stone.
Leaves me deaf.
Leaves me dumb.
Say that you love me,
and I'll say that we're done.
Show me some kindness,
some bit of regard,
I'll share mine with you,
although it can be hard.
I'm no dainty flower.
No silky soft rose.
My kindness has edges,
to keep you on your toes.
Show me these words,
bitter as salt.
Bruising. Confusing.
Tasty as chalk.
I will not deny them,
because they are true.
If you still want to talk?
Well, that's up to you.
