When They See You

 

When they see you,

for who you are,

it’s exhilaratingly

terrifying;

especially when they see;

You.

 

And all your splotches,

blemishes, scabs and scars,

smeared over with make-up,

gregarious personality traits,

dabbling in the stream of

misdirection and joke telling.

 

It’s a sort of love,

that blooms, or explodes,

or erupts from the depths of

you, beaming and bubbling,

from the bowels of all creation,

in blasts of radiating validation.

 

It’s when we see them

for who they are,

that makes you want to

go back to the shadows

and get in your gilded armor

and hide until they’re out of view.

 

Sometime the lure of

the shadows, or the suit of

gilded armor, is preferable

to the bright eyes, seeing you,

for what seems like the very

first time.  Every time.

 

Their judging gazes, fixed on you,

waiting on their tip-toes in

anticipation for what crazy

thing you think next.

The “how-dares-yous”, that

seem to tumble from their eyes.

 

Like your tears,

as you recoil, because you

were seen by the wrong eyes,

at the wrong time, in the wrong light,

the stage wasn’t set, the cues were all

off…

 

Oh God!

Just start the band already!

I want to get off this stage!

Drop the Curtain!

 

… their eyes,

in the dark,

 

seeing me for who I am,

is exhilaratingly terrifying.