I do not ask for your respect
for how could I ever expect
from you what I do not give
to myself.
yet though my heart sits
on your shelf
and my secrets in your hand
you give me the respect
that I deserve not
not a word, nor a thought
for I have bought
shame and regret
and spent my trust
on the dead and dying souls
that used to fill the holes
of my heart
that beats as it sits on your shelf
as my secrets are cradled in your hand.
and I do not fear
for I know that here
my secrets will not leave
the one I trust
except to come back to me
gently
as you whisper respect
more than I can accept.
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