Maybe I should be keeping you away,
because I don't do well with not
getting what I want, and if you're here
it just teases me until my lungs give out
and every effort is wasted
one more time.
You're just a little too far,
but your presence is as demeaning as your absence,
and I can't stand another day
of just pretending, dancing around
all the things I dream about telling you.
I promise, baby, my motives are clear:
I'm not some sick kid anymore,
I'm not gonna jump you in the janitor's closet,
I just want to talk to you.
Because everything's a big romantic gesture to me,
and we're supposed to tell each other everything
and I know you'll hate it, but please.
Didn't I listen to all your favorite songs,
apologize for everything,
give up on the things you hate,
re-apply my lipgloss and wear these clothes,
tell you you're perfect,
call you my love,
promise anything and everything?
And didn't you say you wanted me too?