Do you ever think of me?
When we're hundreds of miles apart
When we're sleeping in two separate beds
When I'm crying into my pillow
When I tell you I miss you
When you're sitting in class
When water runs over your body in the shower
When you crush garlic for your dinner
Do you think of me?
Throughout your daily life
As the time ticks in your ear
And moments continue to pass
Do I cross your mind?
Am I something you want to think of?

I know how much I love you
But do I know how much you love me?
Is it but an illusion
That I create
Because I love being in love?

On the thread of thought
one encounters many knots.
How to undo a knot?
You take perspectives,
look from left, from right,
above, below.
You think and think and think,
fiddle, fiddle, fiddle.
Yet no answer comes to mind.

The next step; you ask a friend:
This knot I have, what is the answer?
They think and think and think,
might even give an answer.
Does the knot get disentangled?
For the greatest knots this does not work,
no matter how many answers you will gather,
the knot remains.

But then there might come along a man,
who will give you peace of mind.
A sage who thought and thought and thought
for years and years and years,
and they will say:
This is a knot indeed.
And thus you look at your thread of thought again,
the knot’s still there.
But you feel the thread
and it feels smooth.

if i get the chance
to write a letter to say goodbye,
i’ll probably leave it blank
— don’t ask me why.

if i get the chance
to collect all our pictures
and put it in a collage,
i’ll probably not do it all
— again, don’t ask me why.

if i get the chance
to see you one last time:
hold you again and kiss you goodbye,
i’ll probably take it
but turn around at the last second
with my head down as i cry.

don’t ask me why.

don’t ask me why
i’ll waste all these chances
to say farewell,
because our love ended
and it didn’t end well.

don’t ask me why
i’ll give in to my sadness
when we could’ve had saved this
because
even if i tried to give my best
it’ll just end up the same;
a big old mess.

don’t ask me why
i’d rather leave than stay,
why i choose to walk away,
because all i’ll probably say is:
we tried
but love ran away.

Why can't I remember?
I'm blocking it, why can't I just-

Who hur-

Where did it-

Why would they-



Sorry, what were we talking about?

Answers float,
never heard, never seen.

Outside the boat
where no man has been.

They wait for a question
to hook them aboard.

Unless asked with intention,
they will always be ignored.

So begin the quest
of childlike curiosity.

The truth will impress,
giving new luminosity.