Questions
Sometimes,
People ask you things.
You get flustered,
Frusterated.
You find it hard,
To come up with an answer.
Then hours later,
Days.
The question ventures it way,
Right back into your thoughts.
And you think to yourself:
"Why do I?"
It's the way you touch me,
How I lose myself in the flow.
It's the way you look at me,
How I feel as if I'm being read.
It's the way you kiss me,
How I find myself in a different world.
It's the way you are you.
How you don't seem afraid of it.
"What do I?"
I think you have a heart of gold.
That you're intentions mean well
I think you are my hilarity.
That you can make me laugh in my deepest hour.
I think you're goals are high,
That you just have trouble being your leader.
I think you want to make the best of it all,
That you're just being held back.
As the answers scurry about,
You think of so many more things.
It's just so hard to keep it organized.
Together.
You have new questions,
So many more.
Millions.
The questions ventured their way,
All through your thoughts.
And you think to yourself:
"This is what I wanted."
Something true and real.
My reason for going on.
For doing so many things.
It's so hard to understand
But you are:
A breath of fresh air,
A light in the dark,
A saving grace,
A reason for leaving it all behind.
You've given me the feeling,
I've been searching for.
And I love you for it.
*Melissa E. G. Juliana* 9/30/04
