A fascination, a faucet that drips
you are a nagging question
a distraction—the very best kind
just far enough away to be dangerous
a voice from around the corner—a mystery
a package waiting to be unwrapped
a thought that keeps popping into my head
a place to go when I don’t want to be anywhere at all
there will be no resolution or satisfaction
there will be no ending, because nothing ends
things just disappear—they are forgotten
and maybe one day I will forget you, maybe soon
but today I am on my toes, peeking over the fence
trying to figure you out, just because I am curious
just because I want to know you better
just because I am the way I am.
Once my mind latches onto something, it can be very hard for me to shake it off. If I’m interested in something, it finds a way to leak out of its container and consume all of my idle brain power. This is one of those things where it’s both good and bad, because it’s very useful in certain contexts—particularly when I’m learning new skills, or working on a big project—but it’d be better to be able to switch it on and off with more control.
Anyway, this poem is about that.
Interesting note (well, to me): I use the word ‘just’ a lot in this poem. What an odd little word.
“A fascination, a faucet that drips”
Number of Times I use the Word Just: