I think I'm tired of waiting for you.
You've had me on my tip-toes for months.
You push, push, push, Stop. Pull.
Your poetic bravado is vacant, admit it, you're dull.

The hunt and chase is part of your fun.
A domesticated kitten, if I play dead, you run.
You never let me get to where your fingers can't reach.
I'm not what you want, lessons you don't need to teach.

We've reached the final lines, one last emotional out pour.
I'll wear my game face, this is how it feels to want more...