What I Cannot Give

You may catch a glimpse of it 

in a weakened or careless moment 

You may think you know 

what I cover on the inside 

You may know me 

in more degrees than anyone else 

Even then, there are pieces 

you may never see 

You will easily see the shining part 

They are exposed to the sunlight 

You will even see the shadowed parts 

They are not cleverly hidden 

Lingering without defense 

You will see some of the darkness 

Enough for you to feel included 

Enough for you to know I trust you 

And it isn’t an issue of trusting you 

It is an issue of trusting myself 

I cannot give you what lies deepest within 

I cannot share the depth of this pain and sorrow 

I will give you a smile on the outside 

I will share the thin semblance of control 

I will display the veneer of my happiness 

I cannot give you what is in my core 

It is a heart-choking sorrow 

It is a soul searing pain 

It is a solitary private event 

It is locked away in the depths 

Even I, only sparingly 

Turn in the direction of the prison 

My hesitancy is tethered there 

I have measured the silence  

against the weight of release  

And still, I choose the quiet  

Not because it is easier  

But because it is mine 

You do not pry  

You do not demand  

You wait with open hands  

And somehow, that waiting  

Softens the edges of my silence 

I do not know 

if this door will ever open 

But I know you knock, gently 

And for that, I thank you 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

August 7, 2025