You Will Never Know

A Poem by Tasha Marie

We're out shopping.
We're talking, laughing, having fun.
I see them walk by
He grabs his hand, their eyes meet.
Their happiness makes me smile.
Out the corner of my eye I see you
Cringing, turning to find anything else to focus on.
I know you see them too.
I quickly turn, holding back the tear forcing its way out.
You will never know.

We watch a movie together before going to bed.
Scene fades from black.
We see them again.
She grabs her, pulls her close. Their lips lock.
I casually look around only to see you wearing that face once more.
I turn to him.
He's shaking his head, not even looking at the screen anymore.
He has the same face.
I head to my room, not to get a good night's rest
But to let my tears once again lead me into my sad nightmare.
The same one I've had for years.
You will never know.

"That's gross."
"That's so wrong."
"I don't approve."
Your motto, your favorite:
"Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."
The words are second nature to you.
From your mouth to my ears,
From my ears to my heart
That breaks with every syllable.
You will never know.

But I want to know
Why not Adam and Steve?
Why not Eve and Eve?
Will your words one day be directed to me
because I want Eve the same way I want Adam?
I thought it might be easy for me to tell you
Since Adam is still in the picture.
I know you prefer Adam.
So that's the story I stick with.
I know what you'll say, what you'll do,
How my truth will destroy your "perfect" image of me.
So you will never know.

At 12, I questioned myself.
At 14, I denied myself.
At 16, I disgusted myself.
At 18, I hated myself.
At 20, I hated myself.
That's not what I want you to know.

All of the pain my heart has felt,
The number of tears that have fallen,
How much self-hatred I've put myself through,
The number of nights I've stayed awake,

Thinking that I'm not supposed to be this way.
All these years lying about

What I am.
Who I am.
Trying my best not to give anything away,
No matter how much my heart ached to tell the truth.
That's not what I want you to know.

Now at 22,
I love myself.
I accept myself.
I respect myself.
I can look in the mirror and smile.
I am happy to be me.
That's what you need to know.

At 12, I questioned myself.
At 22, I am questioning you.
Will it take you just as long to accept me?
That, I don't know.