Who Knows

It's not so much a question as a statement. If you don't have the answers though, for yourself, then I guess the shadows can't see inside either. I hold the hope of a heart, in a hand, on a rope. I for you can only breathe so long. Underwater abattoir. You leave me. Suffocate at sections. I never promised you an olive garden. They say. Go in search of and thou shalt suffer when not uncovering your sought riches. Allow space and time to co-create their beautiful babies of truth. All will be revealed. Rewarding patience. I can only open so much, like a bare book, the bones sticking out from the lesser skinned parts. I am yours. I am nobody's. I am a celebration of everything we don't know.