Done Solving Mysteries

by Kabera Angel

you tempt me with a good time
you invite me over and
open the door
but you stand in the way

and I am tired
tired in the way patience grows tired—
not all at once,
but like a thread thinning itself
through repetition

there is a language between us
made of half-formed harmonies,
a language of almost and maybe

i used to believe meaning could be coaxed
out of what stays unsaid,
that love involved listening
long enough to read another person’s silence

but I am tired
of the quiet violence
in decoding signs and symbols
waiting on a clarity that never arrives

desire, I think,
does not live in uncertainty
it does not fold itself into hesitation
or scatter into a puzzle

love will come
complete
not as something I must solve
it will open the door
and make sure I am let through.