Heart inside a raincoat

Jung said,
“people don’t have ideas,
ideas have people,”
and you were afraid
that the ones having me,
could kidnap the utopias
that covered your thin skin.

My beliefs may not be true,
but their existence is,
and my existence, too.
You can’t handle us, though.
You can’t handle truth.

I heard your loud cries
for approved forms,
for your preferred ice cream flavor,
for a lack of disturbance.
And I turned around to see.

You were wearing a raincoat
with little hearts printed on it.
Would those accept me?
The one hiding inside
is too kind and sweet,
it never explored deep enough
to meet its own demons.
It never jumped out of the raincoat
to be touched by clouds
disintegrating into tears.

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