Could we talk about something other than sex please?

Here's what I had to explain.
I went to a real live grown up for help
white cavernous office, dark wool rug, books
asked to be honest, warned I hold nothing back
free tide interpretive of emotions
          a long silence
          couldn't speak
          any louder
                              then I asked
him how he was.
always it's a cuckoo egg  turns into something else
my confession to your comfort
and even when I think this one understands
like the far sun in winter storms
illumination fades, and I keep
                              a long silence
                              on paper
                              trembling ink
                              never touches down