A question mark, 

the ‘what if’ that stalks us all. 



     meaning love

is more than nice.



then dating just being

a single past-time.









then anything you’ve tried before. 


 ‘More’ than you can handle. 


And perhaps thats why it’s so scary. 


Because if it does work,

 it would ruin you. 

It would expand, 


And throw all the pieces of you off the shelves.

And then when it dies, lies

it would be a complete devastation. 


A disintegration 

      of everything

    you were brave enough  

not to hide. 

And then ‘more’ doesn’t exist.

                  ‘More’ doesn’t have a face or possibility. 


It’s just a taste, a memory. 

‘More’ was a stupid risk. 

                Now an ambiguity.




what if       

that belongs above us, 

stuck in the trees. 


Walking among us,

 but never dares to say hi.


The unanswered questions,

 the unsaid goodbyes. 

The leaves tumble and flee as they are limited to die.


      On earth like the rest of us. 

I can’t lie,

         I’m greedy to want the best of us

Every time.


So I’ve decided

To finally ask;

Do you want it? 


Do I want to know what ‘more’ is

Or simply 

 What if it’s better in my head

then in my bed?


Can I dare,


to unpick

 its delicate threads?

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