I smiled as you offered to accompany me inside,
but the narrow stairway granted us no space to look behind
And as I looked to you for answers you would only hide your eyes
I was blind to your intentions; you were blind to compromise

If I could write an honest line to match your every chord,
these nights of subtle consequence would culminate in more
than my failed attempts to sway you with these brief, constricted words
and fragments of a confession lying forgotten on your floor

I marked your map up for you, took the compass off the shelf
Couldn’t find the will to tell you you’d be searching for yourself
You left without ‘goodbyes’ and started driving towards the coast
But for all your good intentions, your horizon was a ghost

In mercy after just one hour, I called you to come back
on grounds that, with every mile, you were slipping more off track
You returned to where you’d left me, insisted you’d take me home
So we weathered the miles in silence, together yet alone

Before we’d crossed one stateline, you stopped and turned to me to ask
why I’d filled my calendars with false recollections of the past
With your eyes upon me it was hell to find the words to say
But, “I write these lines with hope that I might call them true someday”

The sun waking behind us urged us down the empty roads
And while neither one of us has ever done just what we’re told
It’s something that stands firmer with every moment of each day
If you won’t tell me if you want me, I can’t give myself away