The Scarlet Harlot

I am never good at being emotional.
Please, understand this.
I am never the one to cry.
And I don't like to admit that I do.
Sometimes.
When I am alone.
I feel something on my face.
And I know that the tears are there.
When I am alone.
There is no one to hide them from.
So they escape my conciousness.
And become involuntary capilaries.
Falling from my face.

I am not an 'emo' punk.
I am not starving for attention.
I am not anything worth mentioning.
If it weren't for you.
I know.
I would fade into the background.
I would be lost in my own fantasy.
I would not want reality.
If there wasn't you.
I wouldn't be me.

So many "I"s.
How can you stand me?
As selfish and selfless as I am.
There is no better way to describe.
A first born.
Just so willing to give.
And yet not see what he is giving.
Or to whom.
Just to give it to them.
Because you can't have.
You just can't.
You don't deserve it like.
They do.

But you are.
So much more than they are.
As I am here trying.
To bring back the reasons.
For myself.
Not letting tears come to me.
And I decide that.
I am a rock.
Why would you deserve.
To be with a rock.
I don't decide that.
But the water inside the rocks.
That is what matters.
Or does it.

Don't try to change.
Who I am.
All that I ask.
Is that you let me.
Be here with you.
So that when I.
The rock.
Begin to split.
With the weight of water.
I will be able.
To have someone there.
Who I can trust.
To hold me together.
And say over a thousand things.
Without saying anthing.

I am not hiding.
Not anymore.
Don't call me a coward.
For not saying anything.
Because I am not scared.
I just know that.
No matter what.
There aren't.
Words.
To sound emotion.
Only the music.
That I hear.
In my silent ears.
Can echo those notes.
That fail me.
And my voice.

But ask me.
For anything.
And it will be yours.

All you have to do.
Is ask.

And maybe rub my lamp.