There is no reach, no want like what I’ve discovered I have for you.
There’s no way to tell you so, either.
It’s a lot of jumbled maybes, and too many pitiful I don’t knows.
We’re just a good thing waiting to happen, but the flame threatens to dance away.
I fear that I’ll lose my patience, that you’ll never find your nerve.
If we could just be, then we could be great.
In the darkness of my dreams, I can freely take your hand.
All is well there, and confusion dies.
A place where the reach and want and fervor are satisfied.
But tonight I can’t sleep, and we’re back at square one.
A good thing waiting to just happen already, but we’re too fucking scared of the flames.
We spit out chewed up maybes and tell ourselves to give it another day.
It’s all for fear of getting burned.
And I’m scared that someday I’ll just count you as another lesson learned.
I want you like I need air to breathe, but there’s no way to tell you so.