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?