unsent draft messages

I’ve yet to get a handle on my self 
What hope is there of grasping you? 

Sitting there,
Greater than the sum of all my senses 
A manifestation,
Born of perception 
A version of truth?
Or a manifest deception? 

A mirage 
A visage 
Whatever you may be 
Just, continue to be 

Do my eyes deceive? 
Do I just want to believe? 

Honestly, 
Irrelevant to me 

So I beg you please—
Just, continue to be.