My Enigma

I know your shadow well; the echo of your voice is familiar. The face I see in my head is a perfect mirror image of you. There’s a slight breeze on parts of my skin you have touched, and the footsteps surrounding me are deep. But there is nothing there I can grasp. I want to hold on, to speak, to walk with you. Nothing but fleeting images stay.

Who are you?

Where are you?

Will you ever be here?

I see you, but you see only what I show you. Look beyond me. See what I feel.

Is your heart too free to care? Are you too distant to let me pull you closer? Turn your body my way; let me hold your hand. Sometimes I like to imagine my head is on your shoulder, my hand on your heart. I pretend I can feel your breath on my face, your body supporting mine.

Could we ever be like this?

Would you dance with me just one time?

When I think I have befriended you, you slip through my fingers. Whenever I feel something stronger, I wake up from the dream.

My enigma, you are.

I hope you, too, feel a tightening to your chest. I want you too feel the heat, the excited nervousness. I hope you are not cold. Don’t be indifferent. Think of me as I think of you. Write about me as I write about you, and let your sleep be engulfed with dreams of us, dancing.