Checking In

I’m okay. I feel good.
We check in, and ask–
how are things going?
We resort to talking about food.

Nothing’s new, all is well.
This stuff bothered me,
No big deal though, you know?
Just another thing to sell.

Holidays are coming.
Stressful? Sure.
Just keeping on, through
everything, even if bumbling.

No, no one new, it’s hard.
Holidays can be, you say–while
happily married, another on the way.
Easy; when you’re not on-guard.

Constantly insecure, and unsure
of those around me, the
come ons, the veiled challenges.
And I can only be demure.

So I’m okay. I feel good.
Right now. Safe with you,
here, no onion layers to peel
away. Out there? Should
I?

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