I’m waiting to know the stories between the wrinkles that you have on your right eyebrow.
I’m wondering continuously how did you manage to get a scar on the left part of your forehead?
I’m imagining in my mind whom do you resemble more, your mother or your father.
I’m thinking of how does your lover look even after all that description you gave me.
That’s it, I’m just desperate to know you all over.
You curb my curiosity and I seek more.
I don’t know what’s up with me? The curiosity, the inquisitiveness, it’s a childhood thing.
Maybe I would have become a great detective, but maybe not, because I’m still unable to discover you.
I’m still waiting to share our souls under the silvery moon,
To talk about the endless possibilities of how our life could have turned out,
I’m still wishing you could have worn your heart on your sleeve,
That way I wouldn’t have to conjecture hidden meanings and unravel unintended intentions.
I’m wondering what keeps you up at night and the dreams you have,
To know if you deserve a dream catcher.
I’m obsessing over the saddened grimace.
Did you have a bad day? What were you thinking?
That’s it, I’m again getting desperate.
I’m unable to draw lines between prying, compassion and claustrophobia.
I might have crossed them many a times.
I’m ready to forsake barriers of visibility,
To show you the complete picture.
But, I need to know you’ll do the same,
I’m still seeking your heart,
To be the caretaker of your treasured trust,
To be a shareholder of the memories you house,
To live the experiences of your life,
To read you as my favorite book.
The vows of my trust have constantly been broken,
And have left me caged with distrust.
You’ve given me hope to open up, and
I’m wondering if I’m your hope!