I represent a BLT, And,
This is why you don’t
Let your words pour out
Spill out, leak out even if ever only so slightly-
Even if only a glimpse is to be shown
Because even at the level of ever so slightly they can be captured,
Seen into, experienced and treasured.
And if that to be the right person?
I do not know.
This is why you keep them close
Locked away and with barely a look in,
Your feelings, your words, your thoughts.
Layers and layers
Locked away as if it were a blt sandwhich.
Because what man doesn’t love Bacon?
Keeping it ever so precious as you feel if you didn’t
The lettuce would crinkle and the tomato gone dry
And that is when you take one bite and come to decide
Enough is enough and you simply put it aside.
This is why when you grasp, hold and admire me – I don’t want you to see.
The bits that will crinkle and the parts gone dry
Because once you are trapped you’ll have nowhere to hide
You’ll get bored and simply put my parts aside.
Because you despise the lettuce.
And emotions and feelings they all come with a cost
That by opening what all is yours
Is as a risky as a sandwich in a lunchbox?
Stereotypically this is what you may want
Not the crinkle in my elbow or the dryness down my spine
But the serving of a sandwich made with hands which are mine
This poor sandwich is a representation of what I believe,
Because looking up close are my feelings you’ll never see.
The crust is hard nut,
just like inside of my bones,
When everything is aching yet I strive and venture to carry on
Going deeper with in the bread gets softer
And this is my skin
Hiding what is I
This will seem scary
We know carbs can be!
Yet its actually filled with delight and surprise with what the world refuses to see
And going in with the bacon you love but are supposed to hate
You knows good yet bad and you can’t keep away
Is my hands and the weak spot behind my fragile ear
You can’t help but go near
The tomato like blood rushing through my veins
Pumping and rushing
To prove I’m alive.
To prove I’m okay.
Yet the lettuce is boring, yet some may say,
This represents my body which I’ve grown to hate
Yet you love the lettuce
And I’m glad you do.
It’s your favourite part
With its crinkle and its curves and its edges that burn
Because despite the greatness of the skin and the beauty
Without the lettuce it simply wouldn’t be blt.
Without the ins and the outs
The ups and the downs
The wrongs and the rights
Greatness and frights
My body wouldn’t be me.