Surprise

We've no more surprises
left for each other
every quirk uncovered
every secret once swept under the rug
has seen the light of day
and you've grown bored of my predictability

But what a lie that is
because you never bothered to dive into my depth
you know me like the back of your hand
which is to say superficially
all the little folds of skin and shapes of nail you take for granted
and you know it insofar as you know what it looks like, what it does
but you don't care to know why

Now you I know like my favorite play
which is Hamlet, though you wouldn't know that
and if you read it carefully, you begin to know more than the plot
you begin to understand moods, motivations
and I think I do

How could I ever grow bored of you my love?
The plot of your life is so tiring, as is that of Hamlet
as is that of my own
but I never fail to be struck
by you

I could offer you so many surprises
if you just cared to look
if you just cared to truly know me
but you don't, and I can only offer one more
and that is to leave

you could offer one last surprise
if you would leave her and ask me to stay
but Hamlet always makes the same choices
no matter how many times you read the play
and I expect the same of you