A new poemI am everything but what he needed me to be. I am partially what I wanted to be. I am the kid that played in the mud too long and got stains on my hands. I am that phrase you keep saying to yourself when no one is there to talk to. The words that roll off your tongue so easily when you are alone but are impossible to speak when I am there. This is not really about me, it’s about you. Doing the thing that someone should do when these feelings exist. Walking up to that person and saying the words that you play in your head so eloquently, so right, so right, so well. I feel my dawn coming in a book that I wrote when I was twelve. This is no longer a strange déjà vu this is my childhood dream coming true. And you are still mute when I am around. Are you shy? Do I intimidate you? Are you in awe? Do I seem mean? You answer none of these things. I will do it for you: Stop being shy. I should not intimidate you. There is no one to be in awe of but God. I am the furthest thing from mean you will ever know. Again, this is not about me, it’s about you. Doing what is right before I leave. Doing what is best before this slips away. At least have the chance to say “we gave it our best shot.” I think everything we could gain is worth more than the risk of pain. I know I could say those words easily but it would mean more if you said them too. I am that pounding in your heart right now—that thing you long to say. I am that girl who used to steal my sister’s dresses, and twirl all day. I am almost what my mother raised me to be— a woman. I am everything you need.