You Tell Me

You Tell Me

Tell me,
What are we going to do with our exchange
But faceless thoughts and promises in brackets, divided
By commas
And by the yearnings to know the unknown, to explore the untouchable?

What…
What would you suggest, for I am not as skilled as you are
When it comes to openness, to tears, and to public
Acknowledgments of private matters, of little truths reserved for the eyes of
The few?

My fear has been deeper than yours and
Truly,
Honestly of no use, although I’m still carrying it for the sake of
Having a valid excuse even when the date has expired, expired… oh, expired
… maybe even before it was printed on your page…

Tell me,
What are you going to do with the blank profile
Filled only with hints and clouds
Yet
No one can guarantee that the little hinted words were stolen?

I steal words because of you,
Just as you had stolen some other emotions for someone else and had given
Them as if they were the
Original Gifts.

I yearn to know your gifts,
To touch your lips with my fingers when you smile…
…. Because you are skilled
In saying words that I want to hear
And you are versed in concealing words that I dislike to hear…
…you are versed.

Tell me,
How long does it take to know you,
How long it does take to see through you,
And how long can we keep this silence alive?
(Masked silence!)
I feel that my words can
Easily
Run into eternal hiding,
But,
In brackets,
In between those
Commas
You know what kind of gift I have left for you.

(… and mind, it can’t be exchanged for two cheaper ones!)