You had me in riddles,
All tangled up in the middle
and I couldn't understand it, you, your words;
telling me you loved me even after you found me in the place I never wanted to be.
How is it that a soul such as yours
found worth in bones such as mine,
the decay that time left me in.
You had me in riddles like no one ever had,
they were all just questions with ready made answers
but you were a mystery yet to be solved.
I was thrown by your desire to understand me
even after everyone else was so sure
they knew who I was.
Who told you I was layered,
who told you I was lost?
How did you find me?
Here in this chaos I have been,
accepting that here I would remain,
because everyone already knew who I became,
they were so sure of me.
And you came with all your
order and reason and interest,
and I hated you at first.
You only reminded me of what I lost
and how imperfect I was.
And through all my taunts
and not so subtle signals of dislike
you stayed and riddles me this way and that.
I was floored because I had only learned
to admire people's perseverance
when it was directed at everything but me.
And I learned that for all your perfection
there was one thing you never mastered
and it was the art of letting go a thing (or person) that held mysteries.
I am grateful everyday for whatever it was
that led you to me,
to whoever made you see.
You tell me all the time it was me
but I still have my doubts.
You tell me that's what you love the most,
that I always challenge you to prove me wrong.
SK
