Call it intuition... or maybe I can take a hint,
You no longer make an effort, and no energy is spent,
I don't want to get it wrong, and prefer not to assume,
This is all one way, we're on stop, and I don't know how we can resume,
Call it intuition... or maybe the spark is gone,
Was it me, is it you, where did we go wrong,
Seems as though there's no interest, like you just don't care,
It's like I'm conversing with myself, like words into the air,
Call it intuition... or maybe It's been this way all along,
I try and try, don't want to waste my time, and pray that I'm wrong.

The feelings they’re flowing…
Out of nowhere, plainly thin air, from my mind to my pen they’re going,
Rushing in fast, seemingly like a river, crashing like a wave, my overanalytical mind making me dig deeper,
The feelings they’re unstoppable…
Hard to define, circumventing at times, impossible,
Can’t catch a break, no smiles left to fake, they’re not plausible,
I don’t know the aim, making me go insane, out of my mind,
In a rush, while in no rush at all, feeling out of time,
The feelings they’re overwhelming…
No explanation to you or myself, dealing with the hand I’m dealt, deeper than I’ve ever felt,
Heart beating faster and faster, concern and stress are my masters,
The feelings they’re strumming…
No rhyme or reason, energy depleting, without the mercy of being mind numbing,
My patience is what they test, without an inkling of rest, exhausted and alone,
Broken and open, no one knows but my pen, that my heart is waiting for its pieces to be sewn.