empty seashells

i'm the boy--
no, i'm a boy.
you're the boy
who's just an
empty seashell
but convinces all
that you hold
oceans inside.
(even though you're
not really a boy.)

i'm a boy who
hates peeling off
his shirt because it
reminds him that
he's just dancing
bones (and that
the skeletons in
his closet are bad,
even if he also
uses them as
coat-hangers.)

i'm a famous boy
who no one knows.
i coined the phrase
"air, air everywhere
but not a gasp to
breathe," but no one
heard. all i am was
anyway is just an
empty seashell.

then

you came along
and told me that
i am me, and slowly
i came to believe it.
the shock widened
my eyes, my heart,
the pipes in my lungs;
now i can breathe.

i'm the boy who
can lounge with
his shirt off, 'cause
he knows his skin
can't be taken to the
dry-cleaners, and

i'm the boy who
learned from a-
nother boy that if
you believe you
have an ocean
inside, others will
hear it, too.