The problem is––
when I see your face
I see a question,
one
unanswerable to me
or to anyone.

Your eyes desire
this thing.
A thing physically
unpresentable,
and yet you are
undeterrable
in your quest
to possess
this "thing,"
which I can tell you
does not exist.

I am not it
yet somehow I feel
you see
me as a key
to "it"
and this
melts me,
because I too
once searched
but have since
ceased.

We both sought ((?))
but at different
times, now
we meet and some
comfort does lie
in knowing
people still
search.