I don't talk much

I don't want people to know who I am

I want people to show me who they are

In silence

Which needs to be filled

A person will materialize

And in my closure

I invade their openness

The words, the words seem to be the cells

That weave together to become the tissues

That then builds the organs

For the organ systems

That function together to form

The soul I'm coaxing

My eye contact

Nods of understanding

My comments interspersed between their pouring of themselves

I feel like a thief

Naïve to my power

They seek something in me

An understanding I falsely give to their grasping aura


In my body language and tone

I don't know how to turn it off

Their revelation turns into a need

Overzealous expulsion of what they haven't said aloud

Or have


have been rejected

I know they want me to throw open my shutters

Clash their vulnerability with mine

Until their identity is accepted

With shallow affirmation I pet their insecurities

While furthering building up my walls with their trust

I'm the worst sort of predator

The most defenseless give themselves to me

In return they get a deceptively compassionate