museum

he looked at me
expectantly
i said
what
the fuck
are you staring at
i'm not an exhibit,
not yours to gawk at, anymore.
i want to know what you want from me

waiting patiently with the look
that's more intense than you
let on but really
what do you need from me
that i have not already
tried to give, and failed
my delivery
i can't help you
stop
waiting by my side staring
wanting something i can't
fathom, much less define

what do you see
what do you see. what you see
is weary, washed out and barely
transparent, too proud
to speak, too tired
to lie

you see
what i will not bother to
guard of me