He Never Could Know Poem by Jasmine Berry

You tell me that you love me,
You do not know what I am,
What you see is not what you get,
I don't think you understand.

I am an ocean, wobbling and wavering,
Billions dead in it's depths,
A lunatic running through the pouring rain,
Alone and undressed.

My blood is bitter and strong,
My DNA twisted and vain,
My bones rumble with indignance,
Maniacs live in my brain.

I create fantasies in reality,
I speak to the flowers and trees,
Wander Gothic buildings in the moonlight,
Swim fast in stormy seas.

I do not know how you can love me,
When you do not know what I am,
I do not know how to show you,
How to make you understand.

I am every one of Keat's maidens,
Sleeping naked in the woods,
I am La Belle Dame Sans Merci,
Reeling in victims with falsehoods.

I am Stig sitting in his dump,
A world of wonder under stone,
I am the hermit hiding in his cave,
Cackling, filled with stories, alone.

I am the walker that makes fishermen wince,
A shadow fleeting through the night,
I am a feral, rabied cat,
I am never settled: I am never alright.

I know that you cannot love me,
You will never know what I am,
For I lose myself in you,
And not even I understand.