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Tired out

How can I love you, being such a monster of deceit
and double standards, volatile capriciousness
and no reliability at all, save for abscondence?
I have always loved you but have never reached you,
as if your life's sport was never to get caught
or even grasped or even palpably definable.
Our love is a cruel game of hide and seek,
and when at last I had you for myself
you proved as fleeting as a shadow,
as if all you wanted was to get away,
while I was stuck with desperately missing you.
Your darkness never scared me, on the contrary,
your main attraction was to me your minefield
of experimenting wildly with your human research,
but I could never be a part of it.
That's maybe what was separating us from the beginning:
your precarious recklessness in absolute demands
for ruthless independence in your freedom,
while I never settled for a compromise in love:
I had to have it all and all of you,
while you reserved your best part
for the possibility to leave and get away.
The worst part is, that I can love you but the more
for your evasiveness in your perpetual refuge
to vainly chase your shadow even into darkness.

Poetry by Christian Lanciai