if this means war

What if I don't know how to heal you? 

Will the pit in my stomach turn into expectations that tear me apart? 

And I want your eyes on me 

so that I can feel seen

even when you are trembling,

even when I am an earthquake. 

I thought I could hide my heart 

in the folds of science, 

like art and jealousy;

like laughing at nothing. 

Am I allowed to find myself pathetic? 

Sometimes I think it would be nice

to know fear's name, 

to address her by it, 

so she knows not to borrow mine.