What seems to be, in the shadow of appearances

I always seem to be something, but I'm not.

I'm here and there without really being present. Places, people, moments that take advantage of my corporeal presence and still don't realize my absence for a second.

A presence hidden in an absence. How ironic. Those who think they see me, don't see me. I'm invisible. Invisible in what I let show.

In reality, I only let you see what I want you to see. In the end, not much. Limited access, only in the awareness of what I accept to give. Nobody really knows me. Because... Because that's the way I am.

I'm a lot, I'm more than the words that get lost in my mind, I'm more than the sentences that have never left my lips, I'm more than anything I've ever given to anyone, or almost anyone.

I hold myself captive. I hold inside me the secret of who I am.

Almost no one, come back to me one day, because it was you, and it's still you.