I don't think you can know

I don't think you can know.

As I roamed countless empty beaches, when
I still did such things, the sun would 
set on the other side of
the island, so I
never saw it setting, only saw
the dim fade of light,
as night came, I
made myself
a promise,
that I wouldn't believe in sunsets anymore,
not the ones I couldn't see, even
if there was reason
to believe.

There are games we never played as children, they
are the disguises we learn to wear, we add layers
with each heartbreak, this coat of distrust, 
this cap of shattered confidence, these
pants that hang low with grief, these
shirts that never fit, too many 
buttons of betrayal.

These games we play like shields of war, they
serve no other purpose than to hide our
shame, our tragedy, our brokenness,
we once wore hearts on sleeves,
but now we lock them and throw out the keys,
we once dreamed of being heroes, 
now we'd rather be knights 
in shattered armor.

I have tried to be honest, but
even I cannot say how some words mean
more than what any dictionary can ever explain.

And the question of love remains on our lips,
And they remain dry from lack of use,
And the question you asked I cannot answer.

So I do not know, but I do feel it.

And I, too, am scared.

I remember
when I was younger, 
while visiting the beach, 
the tide rises and my toes
inch closer, I want to enter
that great torrid sea, but there is
a moment of hesitation, like fear, like
realization, because I never know if I should
jump over the waves, or dive beneath 
them, I can't rush in, 
my heart heavy, but I 
enter the waves, 
and sometimes the water burns
my throat, but sometimes
I open my eyes 
and see the
setting 
sun.