How beautiful is the thing you think is not? Just because it remains mysterious, untouched, unspoken.
All words you have imagined, planned to be vomitted, vanished against all the beauty it shaped because the barrier that kept it forbidden to be reached.
How come a very simple, boring thing became unusual part of your curiousity just because the distance it held between you and your itchiness of knowing what it is, how will it be, what would have happened if I could...? And in a second your head was filled by nothing but what if..
I never stepped outside and let it be mystery. Let it be untouched.
Maybe. It wouldn't be like death after death handling the battle between the beasts or so..
Let the what if stays untouched.
So I can say more goodnight to whom my what if meant to.