amateur mason

i was taught
at a young age
to build walls
with every new
pain
to apply
brick and mortar

that if something
wasn’t brought up
it wasn’t to be
talked about

that in the absence
the small words
held the biggest
meaning
even when unable
to manifest
as long as you were
there
it was enough

i thought everyone
was an amateur mason
leaving enough walls
scattered about
that the string cast
throughout the maze
of i love yous
was enough
to always guide you
home

not to press
because
if they didn’t have time
to set
you could crash
the whole
makeshift building
to the ground

raised to listen
not
to ask

maybe
it is the midwesterner
in me
where we don’t
want to be a burden
so we
exchange niceties
while secretly wishing
they would ask
knowing
we will smile and lie
it all away

i was always
taught
to build walls
not open
hallways

now
there is a cat’s cradle
of strings
yet not a single one
leads
to home.

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