squished

When I feel squished, I don't ooze.
Unless you are counting tears.
But really, I don't cry.  I'd like to.  But the tears don't come.
I say, "please feel" and wait.
"Please Feel!" and grimace.
Screw it.
But you know, I care.  A lot.
I guess, you know, sometimes, I get "choked up".
That's good.  I think.  That I feel.
I shouldn't have to ask you.  I should know.  And, I guess that is the problem.
I do know.