Decrescendo of Joy

Why can't I talk to you without this coming up?

I feel so guilty when you don't respond

You say you are sad, and I know you are

But there's no reason for you to be

I don't like telling you when I'm upset

If it doesn't show, then I don't want you to know

But somehow it all comes out in the end

I spill my story and you feel responsible

How does this come up so much?

Each day it seems we touch on the subject

Why can't you understand that I don't want to talk about it now?

You say you feel so guilty after hearing the truth

But you can't even imagine the weight on my shoulders

I can't breathe sometimes when I think about you

You're the only one I've ever truly liked

To see you hurt makes me livid

And to know that I painted the hurt onto your face

Stains my mood a vicious hue

Not knowing what you're opinions really are

You're not speaking now and I fear

I'm scared of what might happen

Will you ever talk to me again?

I like being completely honest with you

But not when it results in a cesura like this

A decrescendo of joy and happiness

While the accented pain stabs at my heart

You asked, so why do I feel the guilt and the blame?

Well, I probably shouldn't feel anything about this

But I do feel so strongly for you and I know

That everything I say will just confuse things further

Because isn't that what it always does?