Rushing

The certainty in your nervous words confuses me,

I sit silently, listlessly.

We brush arms, I always try to sit too close.

You've always had this way with words,

And I can't decide how I feel.

You were in my dream, I felt you were whole.

Slithering inside my soul, wriggling in the vast expanse.

Is a soul the world for other beings?

Is a cell the earth for many other things?

Is the whole we live inside suffering, so we shrivel?

Did we ask for this ourselves?

Probably, yes.

I want to lay beside you, beat our hearts in close proximity.

I want to know you, inside and out, feel your doubt.

Motions are everlasting, but incomplete.

Am I really smart? Or am I too silly to look at the whole.

Why am I the puzzle maker?

Cookie cutting shapes, fitting things together,

Trying to build my hole.