Just when I think that you can see finally see me,
you turn your blind eyes away.
Trying to show you exactly what you mean to me and left grasping for the right words to say.
And I realize just how far the shadows around you stretch, too deep for me to ever penetrate.
That’s what I get for attempting to rearrange our fate.
Trying to call to you, like screaming into a void.
The winding tendrils of cruel destiny leave me anxious and annoyed.
The howling abyss of silence is the only answer I will receive.
My compulsive nature keeps pushing you to leave.
How do I wake your conscious mind at last?
It’s always too much, too fast.
What will it take to make me real to you?
It seems that there’s nothing more for me to do.
I guess I’ll have to compose a sign language of my own making to get you to truly hear me.
I wish I could just let it rest, let it be.
I don’t know why I’m so driven to snag a moment of your attention, to break your concentrated disinterest.
Every conversation, it seems, becomes a hidden contest.
I know that I need to let it all go, but it’s so difficult once it starts.
I suppose I’m still a hopeless romantic at heart.