|Holly Webb - Labels
I see that word hovering at the edge of your sentence,
Cautious. Hesitant. Avoiding my gaze.
The label you need to fit me into your catalogue of friends,
Yet, as I look at you now you don’t seem transparent,
The red in your embarrassed cheeks.
The hazel in your averted eyes.
The only things white here are your half-bitten fingernails.
I see that word trembling on the tip of your tongue,
Curious. Reluctant. Uneasiness growing.
The label that makes perfect sense in your sheltered life,
Yet, as I look at you now you don’t seem double whatever I am
Two legs that keep me walking proud.
Two eyes that stare back at your darting pupils.
The only things half here are your half-witted questions.
Labels do not simplify, they complicate.
We cannot always tick one box.
I do not have a category where I place my friends,
Just a loving jumble of good times and loose ends.