I admit it.
I "psychoanalyzed" him gradually
Over the course of many years
Piece by piece, patiently
Because I needed to know what made him the way he is
He was silent, you see
And I was going mad
I needed to understand him, even in order to be able to let him go
I had to make some kind of sense out of who that man is!!!
I had to understand him
Because I loved him and not doing so felt like an unbearable option.
One afternoon
I took a pen out and scribbled possible factors on a piece of paper ...
Things I am never going to share with or repeat to anyone but him- if he ever asks... 😅
(He won't, because he will never read my poems anymore...)
And although some may sound a little out there as assumptions, I can't help but wonder how many of them I got right...
I know with certainty I did get some.
He intrigues me more than any work of art in the world.
I wish I could have met him before life traumatized our purest inner child...
But I think I may have, in a dream, once...
He was playing the guitar and singing ❤️
My very own...
Beloved
Nature boy...
In the short time we crossed paths
We never had a single picture together
I always thought it was ironic and kind of unfair
But I'd like to think that if we had met earlier and took one we would look something like this...
Us or... Or maybe even...
(I won't say it. Although I absolutely did think it.)
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