Peter Parker

he looks at me
like he doesn’t know
what to do with me.
It’s not exasperation —
at least I don’t think it is.
I like to imagine it’s more akin
to the internal struggle
a superhero must have
when he’s deciding
whether or not
to admit his true identity.
In those moments,
I do my best
to look at him in such a way
that he’ll know beyond a doubt
it’s okay to tell me
whatever truth he’s mulling over.
That it’ll always be okay
to tell me.


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