Implosion

Fault me not for my sentiments,
be they unruly at their best.
I suspect that these feelings
are borne of stardust….
fractured pieces of me,
lashed together with
je ne sais quoi….

I once heard that
everything comes
from somewhere.

Why you?
Why me?
Why here?
Why now?

Cease your incessant
cross-examination of
my heart.

It beats still with some
measure of certainty
I assure you, good sir.

Were I to pen you a missive
detailing the merits of my
affection, I could not guarantee
that the lines would not be blank.

This masque of nonchalance I wear
has become more burdensome
than appeasing.

Pray tell that your thoughts
are riddled with the yearning
to know the truth of me.

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