confused or not

So many things go through me each time we talk, so many things to be said because I never had a chance to say them anytime, anywhere else. Yet I'm not sure if it's a whim that creates this trust, or an intuitive knowledge I was not aware I'd learnt. A message passed under the table, beneath notice of my conscious brain.

I know not what it takes to earn this brand of trust. A secret? A sharing? I am saddened when you go silent but the sound is so chaotic! Particles bumped down currents. I enjoy it, I am terrified, I grow bored in the lulls and I scream in the eddies, begging my eyes not to sting. All a confusing metaphor for conversation but that is how it seems.

Dare I say you trust me? Dare I say I have no misgivings at all? No, I fear you sometimes. I hate you. I wish you'd be quiet, then I wish you'd go on forever. So many things storming my mind, and I cannot speak a hundredth of them. We'll unwrap, unpick, unfold them bit by bit, I hope. I'd like.

Is it the novelty of peering into a new person? Does it run deeper? It is all so very fascinating.