Enigma

In a Perfect World,
I'd be on a dark desert highway,
Racing Lambos with my soulmate,

And I might be snuggled up in bed,
On a cold Autumn night,
With my soulmate.

But did I explain these are two different soulmates?

Both of which have left me.

And these exist in different worlds,
That I have nearly long forgotten.

I ask you to show me your Book of Life,
Because I want to know the story you have to share.

I rarely show mine,
But now my soul has been bared to them all,
And all I ask in return is to read your Book of Life.

Not so you can go ahead and take comfort in reading the story,
And never reading more,
Because I'm much more than my Book of Life.

You've yet to see more than just my Soul.

You've yet to see all the people who've sculpted me, all the things that have sculpted me.

You've yet to see me.

You see me, and you don't. I'm an enigma. I'm everything and nothing, but I'm the Universe's everything and nothing.

I'm more than myself, I'm more than the person I've allowed you to see.

And what you've yet to see is you are too.

Yet I know exactly who you are, without you letting me know the end to your story. It's cliche, I don't need to read more, I don't want to read more.

All I want you to do is see the error of your ways.

I want you to see the error of my ways, and the errors of this imperfect Universe.

I didn't want you to have it come to this, to render me useless. Because I'm more useful to you than useless, and I have more words than need be.

And Cat's in the Cradle with the Silver Spoon. Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon. When ya coming home, son? I don't know when, but we'll get together then.