A question mark,
the ‘what if’ that stalks us all.
‘More’
meaning love
is more than nice.
‘More’
then dating just being
a single past-time.
‘More’
than
just
ticking
boxes.
‘More’
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,
inside.
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.
Another
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,
bare
to unpick
its delicate threads?
Beyond-curious 