I can't be what you want from me.
I feel it in your fingertips.
I see it in your eyes.
They look like fire beneath ice,
Behind glass,
Hot, melting, but water and fire,
They hate one another.
How ironic that your eyes
Portray your soul the way they do.
Did you feel it from me?
I shied from your need-
Greater than I could possibly fill.
Not quite true,
And the guilt stings inside.
But I quell it-
I know you'd never want my lies.
But what else could I do?
I can never resist giving when I can give.
It's my fault,
Weak in my compassion,
For failing to see that by loving you
I doomed you
To love me too.
You'll never be the most, my dear,
And doesn't it hurt?
It hurts me too.
There aren't many who'd deserve it more than you.
I can love you in a thousand ways,
And god forgive me,
I am so terrible at clarifying them.
And some of them
Are locked from you like treasure
And I fear they're all you covet.