You may never understand, acknowledge or empathize with who I am because of what's behind your mask.
For so many times I showed my real face to you with clear skies and the darkest clouds covering my eyes, in a silly attempt to connect with the wrong outlet.
I peaked behind your mask and saw what was in there and kept our life together going no matter the ugly or the hard or the beauty of it. Of who you are.
And loved you...
Difficult word, that is... love. You fantasize with a country without hunger or disease, war or death; with green pastures and joyful songs in every straight street or corner. Nothing but. You see the pastures but there's life ongoing and the ants and bees and butterflies bother skin and bones.
And sometimes there's more... and rainbows only appear after the hurricane. The winds that lifted you in all the skips and hopes became that very storm you were afraid of.
There's beauty in all of it... but you don't want the work from morn to dusk. The task is due but there's a new mask to wear for the day... and in the night there's a feast in all desires.
But no talk of sadness that comes with love. Of loss and emptiness. Ergo, you were the very mask that prevents that happiness.
You won't know me or understand my words. Not until you remove the mask to see all the rainbows that you missed when I was pouring love as it was infinite.
