Poetic Reflection

If I were to ask you my question and you were to give me your answer, would it alleviate the craving I hold?

Or shall I sit in the not knowing and lose the thought of you disclosing, and leave the truths for the true tellers to unfold...



If I gave you some more of me and you snatched up too much of me, would I hesitate and walk away from this place?

Or would I bath in the mystery, give in to what was history, and drink up all uncertainty once faced...



If I relax in being closer and found a comfort in growing closer, would it desire me to bear more of my soul?

Wait, this is sounding tedious, I feel resistant to all neediness, this is moving away from my grasp of control...


If I were to unwind, be still and undefined, would I remember your body in lust?

Or would I retract any yearning thought, feel vigilant and overwrought, and throw myself back into regret and mistrust...



If I were to sit and deliver to you a tale, would it be an easeful fairy tale I’d produce?

Or will I write with conviction, shallow nonfiction, influenced by selfish addictions and misuse...



If I were to write anymore I would give away my questions my deepest of questioning that I seek.

So I no longer will enquire, will remain an indulgent liar, and stay content in the ambiguity you shall keep...