Did we run out of things to say?
The silence kills me when you act this way.
The quiet breathes and frequent glances
I cant read your thoughts but know you're contemplating our chances
I've studied you're movement when your upset.
Non chalant touches, and you can't look me in the eye;
Because they're embedded with wasted efforts and pointless tries.
Is it selfess of me to live in this mystery?
To become sherlock's pursuant to regain victor?
To feel as though we made it, to feel as though I won?
But what's to win, when the other wants to run?
I know you don't understand me.
Most really don't,
It takes alot to love me, and most really won't.
I guess it's too much effort, feel as though I'm asking too much.
Not tangibly, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually;
And that's what people are really afraid of giving up
I completely understand, maybe you aren't the man.
I fell in love with potential, without a second plan.
Maybe I came too soon, Maybe I should leave and give you room.
Why cover the flower, that has yet had time to bloom?
Maybe I'm blocking your sunshining blessings and stunnting your growth...
Maybe I'm hurting and not helping and that's whats killing me most.