I don't know.
Nothing is certain and nothing can truly be solidified into a completely defined being
because the words escape me and things can be as indescribable
as your eyes and the way your hand fits with mine
But perhaps I'm dreaming
and the reality I believe I'm living is just another trick
I have let myself fall for and the only things that are truly real
are the things that are not.
Much similar to the way i wish I could scream out loud
but I force it back down my throat so it only reverberates within my used lungs.
If I implode within myself
and it is reflected on the outside of me
would that mean I have exploded or
would it mean i've finally reached a point in my life where I am what I feel
in which case I am nothing if I feel nothing
and I am everything in the sense that nothingness is what everything believes it is.
Would you kindly hold my hand and direct me to the place where we could finally find
what we've been wanting for for so long or can you only point me the  wrong way
and wish i find it in my own time by my own means.
Does forever truly exist?
Or is it another trick we let ourselves believe so that the fairytales
we see have a possibility in becoming real forever?
What if the great poets only existed in the times
we believe to have fought dragons
and the only poetic things left to say are the thoughts
great poets left unsaid and the things great poets have said
only resonated into their minds from the poetry of the earth
we've begun to destroy in our midst of finding civilisation
only through barbaric means?
And what if the only thing that could cure the restlessness in my mind
was your fingers intertwined with mine
to signify another unthought stanza of love
and your kisses would burn my skin into a salvation
I could have never dreamed of having?

(m.e.)