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You And You And You And You... But Just You

now i remember about what he, the poet without a comma, once said:
too near yet i cannot touch.

it is you.
i open, yet i must close
i am too near you, yet you cannot see.
i want you and i love you
yet i cannot be the love that i want to be.
to forget you i must find you in all the lips
in many bodies, always i am an earth unsatisfied
with a flood of rain,
i love you, yet you are not love, i want to hate you instead
but i will be denying you and myself.
i have been to places wanting to find you
but i always create the distance.
it is always you, even when i die.
they will get me wrong and tell me the name of another.
it is you and will always be you.
i love death more now.
but what can i do? i must live to have you still.
hope against hope,
at the brink of what finally perhaps
may shock you.
that time you may hate me, but that is the truth.
i am the truth, i want you to be a lie.
but you are the truth too.
too near in my heart, but which my mouth
must deny.

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