I wonder...

Cosmic questions for the void:
Is it because I have made myself repulsive? Unavailable? Cold maybe? Am I afraid? If so, why? Will it only get worse? Am I deceived? Or am I the one deceiving? Do I know too much? Too little? Nothing at all?

A piece from my dear friend, Emily:

"Mirth is the mail of anguish,
In which it caution arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And “You ’re hurt” exclaim!"

And a piece from me:

Do sigh
But not too loud,
Suppressed expression
A necessity
To aught excite a crowd