She Knows
A poem I wrote last night. Nothing against any of you. Just how I feel.
She Knows
How are you?
How you feeling?
That is all they say,
That’s all they ever say.
But not her.
Never her.
She doesn’t have too.
She already knows the answer,
She knows me after all.
She knows how I must feel.
Yet she treats me like me.
Not something fragile, about to break.
They ask,
Because they don’t know,
What else to say.
So they fall back on clichés.
What do you say after all?
When the bottom has dropped out the world?
But when she asks,
It’s because she cares.
She is genuinely worried,
And really wants to know.
But she never asks.
She doesn’t have to.
She’s inside my head,
And she already knows.
She knows.