An Obvious Subtlety

You see not me, but a mask. A facade, glittering and perfect.
You hear not me, but an impression. An elaborate imitation, as a trick to your ears.
You know me, but you do not know what you think of me. I say not what I mean, but what you wish to hear. I appear as what you want to see. I am a phantasm, existing only in your imagination.
My heart reaches out to you, crying for you to hear me. But you push me away with thoughts and turns of the tongue sharper than any blade.
I only wish to feel for you, with you. But you cannot feel the faint touch of my soul, caressing your beautiful existence. An existence I cannot have.
Why do you ignore me? Why do you push me away, cast me out as a leper though I care not about my form, but only to improve yours? Your unwitting turn of phrase digs into my heart like a wild dog, clawing away at me, oblivious to the pain you cause.
You do not wish to see me, the true soul that feels only love for you, yet you ask why I remain behind a shroud, a darkened veil that casts man's eyes from me.
I am a super-sonic silence. An obvious subtlety. A gentle fury that cannot be accepted by any mortal heart. I am a living, breathing paradox, and yet I am a dying, strangled absolute. I exist in nothing, and fall up to the sky to meet a mortal god that loves to hate my very being.
I hide from your eyes to protect myself from your burning misconceptions, the spears of your mind, the poison of your soul. My reclusion is my shelter, and my last resolve.