Hyperventilations. Poem by Kim Dang

It's a hyperventilation from revisiting mentally fresh wounds
with a staple remover.
It's lapses in my memory because I just don't want to remember.
It's something tangible to me but in the other perspective, you shrug it off
as your harmless curiosity.

But why is something so harmless ailing me.
When did caring felt like interrogations of the most judging kind?
When did I notice my own cringing from your judging eyes?

As if I have a present, the present to give you and you're not satisfied.
Will any of it contribute more marginally to your sanity?
Will knowing what caused my scars increase the longevity of our happiness?

I'll only satiate your current information need as you unfold the dark maps
of my tainted territories.
And the lines are blurring, whether I'm giving you mental reassurance, or
enabling tangents enough to dispel our magical anomaly.

You want every crevice of me, even if I must bleed.
Regardless if I vocalize my sores beyond recoverable means.
As if you're hedging yourself with this merciless, coaxed out information
these leaps and bounds, climbing out on such limbs, are they really genuine?
is it risky when still I feel your research, your premeditation?
these fierce steps as you mitigate our risks in fighting for that fairy tale ending.