Questions.

I’m afraid of being questioned
For my inability to reply
In an acceptable manner
With required elaboration
Shall leave you standing
Outside the window of my heart
In the cold, biting rain,
Longingly looking inside, yearning
For its familiarity and warmth.

I do not ask questions
For their answers may open
Your memories and emotions
To my astute scrutiny;
As you shall hand me a weapon
For which I am not duly qualified,
And my reckless delinquency
Shall leave you vulnerable.
I shall ache as much as you would
If my frivolous imprudence
And love for powerful armor
Were to leave you lying
Wounded and bleeding;
Writhing in agony, while I stood
And hopelessly watched
Knowing not how to control the damage.

Thus you must know
That I shall love you patiently
And shall replace your
Melancholic silence-
Though I know not of its cause
Or of its existence-
With joyous harmonies
To keep you comfortable
While I love you without knowing
Just who you truly are.

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