We Drift And We Float 
In This Strange Realm Between Being And Becoming

I feel that we drift
that we float
in this strange in-between realm
somewhere between
love and unfamiliarity

I feel as though I know you,
in the realest sense
you can know another person

I feel as though I could trace my fingertips
along the ebbs and flows of all the
arches and bends of your personality
with my eyes closed and I wouldn’t
wander off track

I also feel as though I have
no real idea of the kind of man you are
that you have only given me the opportunity
to play in the safe and shallow waters of
who you are
tactfully keeping hidden what hides in the
darker depths of you

It’s like how I could tell you that you care so much
about the way you look,
about how you try so desperately hard to fill
the gap in your self-esteem with self-optimisation
because you hope it’ll make you feel
good enough

but I can’t tell you why you came to be this way
or who made you first feel like that In the first place
and I can’t be sure I’m even right
about anything when it comes to you

a cascade of contradictions,
the art of knowing you
and knowing nothing of you
all at once

You see, I feel like we drift
that we float
somewhat aimlessly
in this strange place between
love and idealistic projections

And I hope that one day
our drifting thing
could find somewhere calm,
somewhere safe to land

but most of all I hope
that if we don’t find our landing spot,
if you never give me the opportunity
to swim in the depths of your psyche
or if I run from you, for fear of
drowning in another person
that I do not lose hope
in the promise of the
future