Paper: A Poem

n front of you, I feel like paper.
Thin and tearable as your eyes pierce
Through micro-layers of pulp,
Finely ground pieces from a million places
Somehow put together and presented
In the form of a page of paper.

In front of you, I feel like paper.
Bending. Folding. So prone to tear.
So dependent on your help,
Trusting that I’ll be full of perfect folds and creases
Sent by you, somewhere meaningful, an airplane of paper.

In front of you, I feel like paper.
So full of confused doubt and maybe-fears.
So afraid that without you, I have no self.
I’m just an empty body and blank face
For you to project on me, an ideal her.

In front of you I feel like a piece of paper.
So fragile and empty that there’s nothing to hear
From me but the occasional rustle that tells
Nought beside what you say or taught me to say.
Because when I’m in front of you, I’m nothing but a piece of paper.

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