Opaque

You said I should be scared to ask

a question that’ll open your secret door.

Like a vase on mantle decorated in dust,

secrets and burdens have left me opaque

but I’ll confess it all one of these days.

I will now, to you.

A psych in their chair, I trust you

To just listen and not to ask

About those harder days,

spent behind closed doors

behind a veil of opaque

eyes collecting dust.

The cattle yard is stirred up dust,

That’s where you

See through opaque

Troughs of water, you ask

If the minds’ doors

Have been let open in days.

Rest assured I’m happier these days,

I know there’s than the dust

Once it settles and when the doors

Are opened by someone like you

Who’s not afraid to ask

The reasons why a girl’s so opaque.

So in these coming days I’ll ask

to be less ambiguous like you,

how to be less opaque.