Empty Seat

I was staring at you waiting for your answer. But instead of switching on your heart, you let the heat die and carried on talking with your brain. Yes, with your brain. A cold, dry and excessively conscient brain of yours.
Peolpe ask a lot of questions. I asked you several ones but you were only able to answer a few. Well, I guess they were more than enough. I prefer sticking to the unknown, to the unsure paradise rather than facing the shocking truth. So yes, you did fine, my dear.
Do I love you enough? You asked. I was surprised to hear that from you. And I said yes. I wanted to say no but I was too scared of my own feelings. I didn't want to show you my childish, jealous and greedy sides. And I would never want you to think I was one of those who were always asking for more, who were never satisfied, and who were constantly hungry for the other half's attention. No. I didn't want that to happen, to ruin our already broken hearts. Do you want me to love you more? You asked. And again I was as surprised as a kid who never passed on his exams and, for some strange reasons or miracles, he passed one. And one was enough. Yes if you could. I whispered. I wasn't sure if you heard that. But I'm sure you knew my answer before asking your question.
And now I'm staring at the seat waiting for someone to surprise me with questions. How I wish you could have asked me more, my love. And how I wish I could have showed you the childish me, my dear.