Piece of Me

I don’t
want to
share.

I don’t
need to
hold any
part of you

and I’d appreciate it
if you would get your
grimy hands off of
my thoughts

because they are
not now nor have
they ever been
for you and

you are
cramping
my style.

You are
making me
cheap.

You’re accepting
something as a gift
that was never even
offered to you and

I don’t
want to
share.
~3/24/14
_____
Is this an inevitable occupational hazard of a poet?

Some people just like to hear the sound of their own voices raised in every conversation, I suppose. I don’t understand it. And if I ever act thusly, I give y’all permission to step on my toes. A lot.

I live in fear of accusing people of something I’m guilty of, and while I may speak out of turn on occasion, I (hope) I don’t speak up just for the sake of making noise…

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