Enigma

photo from mymodernmet.com

Let me spill out my secrets to you -
entwine your heart with mine, and let my soul stand bare.





Men may think that they’ve had the entire sum of me,


but they’ve only had a quotient.


How I’ve longed to open my heart to them


and finally be vulnerable


to even go as far as turning a few leaves,


having them learn my life’s tales,


anticipating


that they’d be there for the next chapters.


Yet all they cared to do was glean over and skip,


take all the precious contents frivolous,


and leave me in the end


wishing I’ve never opened the book.




 




I wonder what’s it’s like to be able to share


the mysteries buried in the depths of me


to someone who can make all the trouble worthwhile.


 





I imagine the rivers of mysteries flowing,


and it creates such a beautiful sound.


 




Could it really be that beautiful?


 




Is it worth it exposing everything you are to someone?

 Would that someone not flee?


Would he not turn back down?


Would he stay even as the charade loses its thrill


and familiarity starts to breed its child?


 




Could there really be someone with a soul so beautiful


you’d stop looking at the physical


and feel like opening yourself up is the most natural thing in the world?




If my own sense is ever my ally,


then it must mean well when it says


that the person could be you.


You can be a cut above all the leaf-turners


who have set the alarms loud and red.


I can feel that you can simplify all the metaphors,


decode the enigma,


break down the equation,


and prove that it’s worth being done that way.


 






So let me spill my secrets, and please don’t just read the book.


Come sit with me and write the remaining chapters


'til all the stories are told


and the ink runs dry


and the leaves are no more.

			

			
									
						

							

								

									Category : reflections