Silence of our tones is slowly suffocating me.
The uncertainty of your movements is mystifying.
Hasty circulation of blood running through my veins.
Disproportionate mental exhaustion due to your mystery.
Introspection of my wrongs,
Realization of my brain-work and the present error before my eyes,
Is bloody atrocious,
Because I dig deep within my soul,
I shove my nails into my flesh,
As I fail to understand your eyes,
What are they hiding from me?
Is it my boldness you fear?
Or did I do you wrong?
What are we?
You and I?
Because the vagueness of our passionate stares,
Is confusing me.
Is it the gaze of love you exude?
Or all you have for me is friendly admiration?
But of course,
You and I can never be,
If you’re powerful enough to rule the world,
And my fragility stops me from stepping out the door,
If you’re determined to do the impossible,
And my hesitation is moving me nowhere.
So whatever we may be,
Whatever you may be to me,
And whatever I may be to you,
Our silence is due to our fantasies.
You and I?
We never spoke.