Unquieted Love

There are times that you try to make
me smile, evoke a giggle, or laugh,
but instead I cry.
I cry because you don’t take me seriously, and you’ve never been
a shoulder to cry on:
it makes you
hostile to see me miserable.

I try not to
show how deeply it hurts to
feel laughed at, nothing I
say is ever serious to you,
and perhaps it is because
you’re not serious.

But I am.
I have been since I decided
at four-years-old, when
some person would sweetly call me silly, and I’d correct them so they’d know.

And now I am twenty-seven,
still wanting to be taken seriously. People tell me,
“Lighten up, it’s just a joke.”

How frustrating
to not have someone
love me for my serious mind, and
terrifying to fear such severity,
for when the world needs serious
thought,
I will not falter or fall.

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