Can You Hear Me?

Can you hear me?
Can you hear
The cracking,
The wavering,
The fear?
Can you decipher
The words
That rise from my lips,
Their meaning?
Are we speaking
The same language,
Or have I suddenly begun
Chanting in tongues
That only I
Can understand?
Can you hear the running
Of tears down my cheeks,
Or the stinging
As they burn them?
Can you hear
The pain you’re causing
The scraping
The bruising?
Is my drunken slur
Too thick
For you to comprehend?
Is it the wind
That’s drowning me out
Or am I speaking to you
From underwater?
Can you hear
The fire in my throat
As I struggle
To keep speaking
To keep trying
To make you hear me?
Can you hear
The simmering
Of water vapor
When at last
I give up?

Worth

I asked for it.
When he told me,
In my drunken haze,
What he wanted from me,
In hushed tones
I leaned in and whispered,
Anxiety in every slur,
“I never have…
Before…”
He asked me
If that was a yes or a no.

I waited until we were alone
To tell him,
Louder this time,
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
But he had full intentions
Of giving me what I was asking for.
I repeated even more loudly,
“I don’t think we should do this.”
He kissed me harder,
Pulled more fervently at my clothes,
As if I was telling him
To hurry up and give it to me.
Because asking for it
Never meant that I asked.
It’s always only meant
That I deserved it.