Unbeliever.

I want to believe
in what I can’t see,
in something that seems
impossible to me.
And I want to believe
in something that shows
that what I’m holding is real--
but who really knows?
And I believe in trying
(as I try to believe
in this final attempt
at trying to reach)
for more than I can handle
with my hands, so cold,
though my mind is burning
with lies of old,
and overflowing in memories
with promises of pain,
and the pulsing nostalgia,
and no definite gain;
where I lay down my fingertips,
but am determined to seek
the truths I am blind to,
and the oaths I don’t keep.
And yet I still want to believe
I still want to touch…
Whoever knew that believing
could hurt you so much?