Dear you, What are you doing to me?
I try to make sense of it all
To make up external excuses for my pathetic behavior
Maybe it's the planets in retrograde
Maybe it's just that time of the month
Maybe it's you.
The way you say you want me but then push me away, keeping me wanting more.
Or the way you have this senseless charm and wit that I adore
But no, oh no. It's not any of those things
It's the way i make up internal excuses
Hoping that as time passes so will these feelings inside, because God knows I can't understand them
Praying, that even though you never seem to say the right words, somehow, you really do get it and feel the same way.
It's the way I hold on to the most insignificant details.
Dear me, What are you doing to yourself?