What do I want

I have never really said what I truly want.
I mean, when one voices that desire your
cards are on the table for everyone to see.
I’ve walked around it’s edges never stepping into it.
Exposing the intimacy of wants, dreams, can bare the soul.
My physical nudity does not embarrass me, nor
does the exposure of what I write or say.
But, to express want, that is a different creature.
That demon can become the skewer that finally ends
any thought of moving past a now shattered mirror of self.
The reflection has transmuted want and moved on
into the next life of impossibilities.
What do I want? To not have that question asked!
For to answer it would destroy what I am.

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