the unknown, pt. 2

the unspoken words that string themselves between your phrases 

have become tiring to translate.

why you can't say what you mean,

even if answers to questions burn,

has never been made clear.

because what happens in the space between

your cryptic and nonsensical language

is an uproar of emotion

deemed unnecessary by yourself.

dangling what you want to say

far enough away for me to see but not to reach

has chipped away at a stamina once strong.

conclusions i could make would cut you loose

and let you off the hook you hang yourself on.

and there is some pride left in me

that wants an admission to ways you've allowed.

so in my own cryptic way,

throwing eloquent words together

that are saturated in poise,

i'm asking for a choice.

and while i may not like the answers you give,

the honesty you take with me 

is but a short stride in the reality you give yourself.

so when you find yourself without me,

your crutch, 

a resting post you've no doubt become reliant on,

you may want to ask yourself a question.

and while you may not like the answer

once you've stringed between the phrases,

know that while honesty is harder than deceit,

you lost me,

and you're the only one to blame.