Conflict Inexplicable

You are the skeleton key to my caged tiger
close enough to use this shield for a mirror.
The past was content with reflection;
you're the least indulgent person I know.
That face launched oceans
first from shock, last from horror.
You've born the weight of other's error.
This hesitation doesn't indicate doubt, my calculated Cupid.
You're no apocalypse, just mathematics.
(I can handle application, theory escapes me.)
Your face is technically perfect
Even everything I'd ask for,
But it's not why I hid in the kitchen
crying into a smile at 2 in the afternoon.

Technicolor Retina

My ladle is an accurate devil,
watching details.
Swallows criticism,
until I've measured sufficient.

Sometimes this teaspoon serves more than sugar.
He stirs me,
observing changes observed
and I whore for attention
like any internet's children.
I want to become
(a girl who can dance for 3 minutes,
a woman who can love without fucking)
more perfectly a better me.

He asks questions I can't answer,
would ignore from anyone else,
his soundtrack dies for love.
Life as a bleeding explorer is all I've got,
but I could die tomorrow.

In acute humanity, insecurity goes without saying.
I write my doubts on napkin scraps,
leave them crumpled in coffee spills at Starbucks' across Manhattan.
Some busboy I'll never meet
knows some stranger with poor penmanship
fears not being
(entertaining, charming, supportive, attentive, ... )
enough.