“He is elusive,” he said.
“I asked him where he lived and what name he was called. ‘Nameless,’ he replied. ‘Our manor is quite old.’”
“He is elusive,” she said.
“I saw him cry backstage and wiped his tears away. He wowed the audience next, throwing smiles their way.”
“He is elusive,” they said.
“How could he do those feats, without telling a thing? When asked to share with us, he told us not to cling.”
“He is elusive,” he said.
“We were friends yesterday. Today we’re enemies. I couldn’t comprehend these factual fallacies.”
“He is elusive,” she said.
“He’s full of chivalry and knew what lay ahead. But then he lost his grace, we’re entwined in his bed.”
“He is elusive,” they said.
“Just now he talked a lot but nothing was revealed. First skin was shown to us, beyond it was concealed.”
“I am elusive,” I said.
“I have a lot to show and not a thing to tell. If I caused you trouble, please know that I meant well.”
“I am elusive,” I said.
“Skinny I may look but these layers are thick. On my hundred-foot wall, you may find a nick.”
“I am elusive,” I said.
“I’m spending time with you while writing your swan song. Let’s make a memory. Tomorrow I’ll be gone.”
This was originally published on 2014.
Photo by Tobias Bjørkli from Pexels
Xeno Hemlock 
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