only the men can stay (a true story)

a morning's idle curiosity,
supplemented by fever, envy, a wonder why,
got the better of me,
and as we continued to walk,
i could feel the flames rise
in the deeper pits and undersides of my eyes.
i was reluctant to talk, for obvious reasons
because though it's been months i still don't think i can
but all that was erased by "see you, man"

i am a canvas,
frozen and covered in gridlines only i can see.
but to the rest of the world i am this blank thing
there is no me,
there is only assumption, some easy comfort,
and men's hands are rough when they reach out and press
but it's the women's impressions that hurt

i've found recently that hugs are no use at all,
i just slip through their arms,
what i need now are handshakes
a strong and firm grip is what it takes
to save me
from the fall, to keep me from harm