Wanting of,
But not wanted.
Pretending, we are egoists.
On this we pride ourselves.
Kept you from me,
Kept me fleetingly safe,
Kept inside, insipid heartache.
But, me alone, still I am.
Me the one who lies at night.
Me, unloved, who seeks love.
Who wants for the sake of wanting.
Out of boredom,
Out of custom?
Perhaps boredom after all.
Or perhaps misunderstanding:
Of self,
Of time,
Of grace.
One last piece missing?
Still incomplete the puzzle-picture.
Obscured until now,
A chaotic understanding.
I have not done all asked,
I have not been all thought,
Yet, I believed having found you,
To complete all I 'ere sought.
And having it all?
And having you?
Lovely, the constructs faded -
Leaving only a pretty ruse.
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