There's a part of me
that you don't like
and you can't love.
The moments
of irritation
or even those
when I want
to take refuge
in solitude's arms.

The part that breaks
as a tender stalk,
when only a word
touches me
and the jokes
collide, deaf
against my chest
like an old
and ancient wall.

Traces of jealousy
I cannot veil...
It's a part of me
that you fear,
and would like
to run away from,
but both of us
live under
the same shelter.

There's a part
of you
that I don't like...