[This was written quite some time ago, its just time to post it...]
We sit on the bank of the river of time, or perhaps of timelessness
Our fingers inches apart on the ground, yet never touching
Too afraid of all the worldly meanings the action might betray
Yet what do I have to fear from you?
One who can look into my eyes and know the very depth of my soul
Who sees in my trembling hands all my insecurities
And dissolves them into nothingness by casually brushing my cheek
One who can trace the falling tear right into my heart
And while I weave a tapestry of lies to hide behind
I see my truth reflected in the silence of your gaze
How did you know me so well?
How did you awaken the lost little girl without a word?
How did you make your way through all those deliberate barriers?
Without breaking any of them, or at least not in consciousness
Who are you to me? Friend, Lover, Protector –
All the words seem so shallow and fake
For I have seen others play those parts, and play them well
Do you play them better? Not really, no –
Yours is a different role altogether, one not in the script
Like an actor never on stage yet forming the very essence of the play
In your words I find my existence reflected
Explained as if to a child, a simple yet magical dream
And yet I am afraid to ask you to repeat them
To look in your eyes when you speak them
Afraid of that one false note, that one flicker of gaze
Afraid it will all fall apart in jagged bloodstained shards
And there on the edge of the lost stream of time
I am afraid to reach out lest, I don’t feel your touch
