One would have thought after three or four years,
That I could say all this to you without choking down tears,
That'd we'd both reach a point where enough is enough,
Where we'd set down our crosses and unite when it's tough.
But my urges still dwell in procuring our dreams,
Stirring clouds of illusion, blurring facts at the seams,
I'd hush up about every pain in my heart,
If it would catalyze growth; if you would then do your part,
There isn't the muscle, or power, or voice,
To build up your strengths when we're both given choice,
Because the course of inaction, is the one that you'll choose,
Till flesh rots off my bones- till it's sure that I lose.
Perhaps it's because it's a clear source of power,
You can taunt me and promise our love hasn't gone sour,
With assurance you tell me it'll all soon be changing,
That you'll make time for my love with your schedule arranging,
There are very few men on this Earth I can't read,
I can't tell if your thoughts are of love or of greed,
So I put on a smile and I hope for the best,
While the doubts eat my veins, causing pains in my chest.
Because you have to admit, you sure don't like to show it,
We stand on uneven footing, the concealed and the poet,
And perhaps this imbalance feels to you like there's danger,
But I would rather feel risk than feel I'm in love with a stranger,
You're a man who I've seen go wherever he wanted,
And do whatever he pleases- and that thought leaves me haunted,
Because if indeed you're a man who gets all he desires, if it was me that you wanted you'd have rekindled those fires.