Ambiguity

I don´t understand, but I do.
I hear the yes, feel the no and watch them melt together,
sometimes at a distance a true closeness is found
then quickly escapes me into the mumbling deceit,
what´s left is confusion.

I don´t miss you, but I do.
I don´t dress the stars into your empty eyes,
or search among the leaves for all the nuances of your face,
and in the darken hour I never howl your name over the deaf moors.
But your capturing smell brutally awakens the fires of my heart,
and your laughter through feverish dreams my sleep destroys,
so that I have to painfully repent every single compliment.

I don´t talk to you, but I do.
I say lots of things to you,
I listen and I laugh,
but I would never confess to any judge or higher power
the true nature of my inner feelings.
Now it´s forever clear to me that the world
is not enough for this infatuation.

I certainly do not love you, but I do.
I would rather be eaten alive by leeches,
climb a thousand mountains of razor blades
or swallow the cruelest poison of the planet,
than to admit loving you.
But I would do anything for you,
jump on a train to the remotest place of the universe,
in this very instant,
search for your happiness beyond the farthest lamppost in this galaxy,
follow your inner journey to the desert,
and learn your language so I can communicate with your very heart.

Since complication came into this equation
the only solution to this relation is evasion.
I don´t understand, but I do.