You say I make you happy AND sad, does it mean
You wish you could know me more, but it scares you – the more you know, the lesser you comprehend
Or does it mean,
You wish you could hold my hands whilst I ramble about the oddities of this life, but the din of my thoughts drowns out that miniscule wave of affection.
(And I say affection because the L-word is like jumping on a Muscovite sheet when it comes to me)
Does it mean,
You wish you could sit and admire the beauty of saying nothing, being nothing in that one existential moment ;
but somehow that silence cuts through you.
Because you can’t stop thinking what I must be thinking.
(Do you really want to know, or would that catch you off-guard again?)
Does it mean,
Your lips tremble when I see you as if you’re the answer to everything I seek;
4 parts delight, 3 parts anxiety and 2 parts fear of the unknown.
I have often seen you mumbling to yourself, while you hold up your fingers
But it’s just a wild guess. Who knows how many permutations there could be?
I don’t wish to know the Absolute Truth. There’s a thrill in not knowing.
Isn’t that the point? Not knowing everything?
A few sides revealed to the unsuspecting stranger, a few layers shed for an intimate companion;
But you. You’re surprisingly close to the Absolute Truth Of My Being.
And that’s not good. You know why?
Because you never get all of me. The endeavour is reason enough to send me away.
And you’ll try to fill the vacuity with your trusted Marlboro and strange arms ;
Or if you’re the persistent kind: you’ll search doggedly. With a vengeance to capture.
You will convince yourself that its my chuckle in the hum of your wind chimes.
Or that I still linger on in your sheets. Maybe you’d be devoted enough to not wash them-lest you forget my smell.
(But please do, I’ll fade away nevertheless)
And then, you will rack your brains, anything that will explain why I left.
Maybe I got bored. Or maybe I went on an evangelical journey of self-exploration. Or maybe I moved on to ‘greener pastures’
But it’s not any of that. I just want a piece of me for myself. Unrevealed. Untainted. Un-scrutinized.
So if you want to keep me, don’t tell me you wish to know all there is to me.
Tell me Nothing is Absolute, and Absolute is Beautiful.
Unknown, and yet Beautiful.
Happy AND sad, I’ll take my chances,