Sometimes I Wonder What It Is You’re Thinking

Sometimes, when we are resting on those lazy Saturday afternoons – the cool grass of our backyard making my skin itch and my head nestled comfortably in the cavity of your broad shoulders, like it has found its final resting place – I wonder. And more often than not, when I wake up in the dead of the night, my throat parched like the desert sand, I wash down my thirst and return to our bed, only to stare at your face in the silver moonlight, and I wonder.

I wonder what it would be like to smash your skull open with a hammer and rummage through the remains of your brain, like I was apple picking in a sunny field somewhere. I wonder what it would be like to examine it carefully, like a rat in a lab, studying it dispassionately like it was a mundane every day activity. Scoop it out with a spoon and put it up for display, maybe sell it for 10 cents apiece to the ones really worthy of it. Why should I be the only one to suffer through the conundrum it spews or enjoy the many secrets that it whispers to me?

Your mind is both a riddle and a revelation, deplorable in ways I cannot fathom and yet I want nothing more than to just unravel it, play with it between my fingers, the twine of your psyche gently curling around them, pulling you deliciously close to brink of insanity.

And I know that deciphering you, peeling off your countless layers and tearing down every last one of the masks you wear, will take me an eternity and maybe even more than that. But it’s killing me, that perpetual curiosity to fully understand the enigma you really are. That strange longing that lingers within me, to one day look you in the eye and peek into your thoughts, trespassing your mind in every way that I possibly can, that longing, that urge, it eats me up inside.

It frustrates me to no lengths, this façade of yours – that is what keeps me up at night like a nocturnal beast; I look out into the star sprinkled night sky and curse whatever god is out there, for you are a puzzle that I will never be able to solve.

Not in this lifetime at least.