I Don't Want To Be Studied

I don't want to be studied,
laid bare beneath your judgemental ways,
each mumbled word, each clumsy deed,
examined in a critical haze.
 
You pick apart my every thought,
my motivations, deep inside,
as if some hidden lesson's taught,
in how my restless feelings ride.
 
I don't want to be a puzzle,
a complex problem you must solve,
my thoughts a landscape, rough and subtle,
not something neat to resolve.
 
You search for patterns, hidden flaws,
the reasons why we couldn't stay,
ignoring nature's messy laws,
that love can blossom, then decay.
 
And now I'm left with questions too,
that echo in this silent room,
not seeking answers from you,
tired of not knowing what to do.
 
A love that doesn't need to know,
the whys and wherefores, every twist,
but lets the wild emotions flow,
and simply loves, with gentle bliss.
 
I don't want to be studied,
just heard, known, and understood,
a fool whose heart, though sometimes muddied,
still beats with something pure and good.