My Selfish Deposit Box

Do not pity me.

For I am selfish

Somewhere.

I am self-assured,

In a nook

Of myself

That remains

Perpetually foreign

To all but myself.

It may be hidden

In the shallow basin

Of a collarbone,

Or the spaces

Between my fingers.

But it’s doubtful,

For they’ve been

Searched.

And no one has

Found me yet.

I am selfish

Within.

In this crevice

Somewhere

Inside of me,

I know myself

Quite well.

It may conceal itself

In the crook

Of my elbow.

Or the back

Of my knees

But it will always be

It thrives

Somewhere

In this space

Where the

Secrets weave

gracefully

among their desolate

beating brothers.

Through one another

Through one another

That’s where

My knowledge lies.

It may be lost,

Drowning in a sea

Of strands,

Swimming through

The waves

Of my hair.

That’s where

My selfish tendencies

Thrive.

I care for her

I care for him

I care for you

But I care for me more

In this ugly

Unknown

Space.

And here I am not sorry.

Here I mend myself.

And this is why

I’m not looking for

Apologies

Because for you

the place

May not be hidden

Secret, or dark.

Still,

There you mend yourself.

And there,

You shall never be sorry.



2012