CAMAS

By

Ruth Fleisher

Maybe you think
you do.
But you don’t
know me.
How could you?
I’m still looking for myself-
the other me.
In a crowded room
I hide
behind my laughing eyes
thankful
that you don’t know me.
Just you & I
and you love me
with your words
your eyes
your mouth.
And I feel myself
falling
slipping on the edge
of your soul.
I want to cry out-
to laugh with the wind
and to run with the breeze
just this once.
But I realize
a moment too soon
that you can’t love me.
You don’t know me.
And still,
I hide.