Tangled
You’re not as hard as you think you are. Inside that warm body are you really breathing? Because it seems to me that you’re so busy maintaining your walls that you’re forgotten how to be human. Sometimes I wonder if you hear me at all. You with your arms crossed around your heart and that smirk across your face as if it doesn’t phase you at all. Come on, baby. What line are you going to throw my way this time? You like to think your vague remarks keep me curious of your mystery. I think in all your relentless efforts to keep me wondering, you’ve lost yourself. Things get a bit hazy when you’re always busy covering your tracks, don’t they? Curious of you I am, not of what you’re hiding, but where you’re hiding. I’m not oblivious. Maybe you’re as naïve as you think I am. I cannot begin to count how many times I have rolled over to find your cold pillow and sheets. Where do you slip off to every night? I can feel you untangle your arms around me, but I know you’re tangled up somewhere else. Don’t talk at me with your clever one liners. Come on baby, I don’t want your bullshit. I want you.
