When I read your words,

When I hear your voice,

When your emotions run across the page

Your soul exposes itself

But in fact

I know only pieces, 

Small portraits in time,

And I want to know more.

 

Details won’t change

The impact you’ve had on me

But they’d refine the picture,

The person I’ve come to know.

 

Call me crazy but when we finally sit at a cafe,

Mere inches away,

I want to know how you take your tea,

With milk or honey?

 

I want to know so much more 

Than what I’ve read in your poetry.

I want to know more than 

What you’ve told everybody.

I’m craving pieces from unknown stories,

All your mundane routines.

 

I want to know your choice of words.

 

Who broke your heart first?

Was it your parents, your first love, or idiots in the neighborhood

Who didn’t know a good thing when they saw it?

 

What you're reading,

Who has your tongue

On days when you’re not writing? 

 

I long to hear all your words, to live in your presence.

With so much passion in your writing even an ounce

Of that oozing out of your daily life would suffice.

 

I only know you in bits, in pieces, but I want to know more.

I’m craving for more.