I tip toe.
You fumble.
We laugh anyways.
It’s too easy, I’ll admit.
I slip up. You understand.
(I still tip toe.)
Some things go unsaid.
Yet something needs to be said.
But I let it be.
I continue.
You smile, out of character.
Yet I know that “character”
is the real you.
You pretend that I can’t see it
but it’s clear
You can’t hide it.
I don’t acknowledge it.
But it’s there.
And will always be.
We accept it.
And that is comfort .
If I push you, you push harder.
If I pull, you push away.
I tip toe again.
Scared to trip a wire
that will cross a line.
I smile.
I am myself.
or at least I try.
You are in character again.
Who are you playing?
A good friend?
A listening ear?
Something else entirely?
I don’t acknowledge it.
You smile.
I smile.
We are ourselves now.
And it goes unspoken.


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