You. You.
Why you?
What is it about you?
They ask,
What do I see in you?
They ask,
What’s wrong with me?
They ask,
Why you?
Why you?
Yeah. Why you?
I’m possessed.
I’m entranced.
I’m embarrassed.
I’m screwed.
You don’t know.
You can’t even begin to know.
How could you know?
You don’t know.
You can’t know.
You don’t wanna know.
You-
You probably know.
But you don’t really know,
what you do to me.
You do not realize your effect on me.
You do not see me.
I am just another.
I am just a mind.
I am but a mold.
I am just a soul.
I hide it well, so it seems.
But you never see.
Am I so bold as to speak this aloud?
Does it matter?

No.

Because you’ll never see,
you’ll never see me
for how I see you.
You have no clue
how I wonder about you.
You’re so oblivious.
Yet everyone knows,
they all know.
Know about you.
The discomfort,
the confusion,
the moments that devour my mind!
The moments that make me want to scream!
And they all wonder why!
You!
I wonder about you too...

Why do you hide?
Why do you try?
Why not seek?
You’ve the skin of a broken shell,
yet the soul of a newborn rose.
You fight so much.
You hide so well.
But not from me,
not as much as you think.

I see your eyes.
I see those eyes.
The secret gentility of that soul
yet the cold hardness of the mask you wear.
Tell me,
Do you see mine?
Do you see me?

No.

You do not see.
You do not wish to see.
For you see something else.
You see someone else.
You don’t see me. So it makes me think:
“Do I see too much?”
You play, you daunt,
you wrestle, you pick,
you’re you.
Do I see too much?

…

You’ll never see me,
as I see you.
I shouldn’t – I can’t.
But -
One cannot control one’s desires,
one’s infatuations
one’s greed.
I want to see more.
You’re gentle, kind,
sweet, nice side.
The side very few get to see,
A side I have seen once
Upon a time.
I can’t mistake those eyes,
because your eyes can’t lie.
I see something good.
I see something sweet.
I see something amazing,
something worth seeing.
I see something I want.
Yet,
Do I see too much?

Your eyes…
Your eyes are the crappy liars.
Your eyes are too much for me.
But I want your eyes to see…
I want your eyes to see me!
I want –

Oh… Wait...

More Boundaries,
I forgot.

I don’t want you to see me…
Right?
I don’t want you see your eyes.
Right?
I don’t want to see you.
I don’t want, right?
I don’t see you, right?
I don’t see.
I can’t see.
I’m not allowed to see.

I am to grow “Immune”
Because they call me:
“Improper”
“Inappropriate”
“Immoral”
“Immature”
I-I-I-I
So many eyes!
And all I see are your eyes.
And your eyes see me.

Yeah.
You heard me.

But -
You always hear me,
don’t you?
You always see me,
don’t you?
I am not blind.
I am not deaf.
I have eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth.
And I am not smart.
But I know.
Yes. I know,
you see me.
Yes, I know,
You hear me,
don’t you?

I hear its gentle whisper as it glides through my ear.
I can feel it dancing with the reeling strands of my hair.
As it hugs me tenderly,
my cheeks, my lips, my eyes,
I hum with such a sensation.
It carries me through my wilderness,
metaphoric or poetic.
It pulls me up,
twirls me 'round,
making the folds of my dress eager to fly with me.
I'm diluted from my thoughts.
My once worries are now carefree.
My thoughts sooth and linger,
dwelling within my rendered mind.
I feel as if...
Spirits lift me of my sorrows.
It calls to me...

But when angry,
its gentle whisper becomes a blood curdling scream.
Its dances turn into tango's.
It's hugs become its traps.
and its brightness of day darkens to the pits of hell.
When enraged or hurt,
its terrifying roar withers my teething brain.
Instead of lifting me up,
it slams me to the ground,
back to my reality... My heart wrenching reality.
He scares me...

But it is not always so...

He sighs when I sing,
he holds me when I cry,
He binds to me when I am weak,
He gives me strength,
when I can no longer breathe.
His grabs onto mine when I cannot see.

Yet, there are times when he lets me go.
There are times when I feel nothing at all...
It... He stands in perfect silence,
can become invisible to every sense.
Yes.
There is such a thing as absolute
nothing.
Then,
I am a  soulless being,
full of sadness and grief when I do not feel him.
When I do not feel him,
I do not feel.
Its what makes me stand still;
its what makes me whither in my place.
It's what makes me slowly decay...
It makes me think.

But those moments,
those memorable moments,
one's who seem to alter time and space,
to set me free and live in paradise,
are worth a lifetime of a smile,
an eternity, for one moment of peace,
knowing that I am not alone,
when he does hold me within his embrace.
those moments return,
when he holds me once more
and he sighs, "I am here".

And through all this time,
I thought that it was just the wind whispering to me.
Through all this time,
I thought the wind was holding me.

No...

It was just a little more...
It was my daddy's hands
Holding me tight.
It was my daddy's voice whispering,
"I love you".