Can't tell if you're leading me on, or just leading me.
Can't tell if you're suffering in pain, or simply stubborn.
Can't tell if I love you, or if I'm in love with the idea of you.
Can't tell if you're being kind, or if you're showering pity all over my stupid little head.
Can't tell if you're pleasantly dreaming or angrily waking.
Can't tell if you're sharing and pairing, or if you're getting another free meal out of me.
Can't tell if this wine is good, or if it's good.
Can't tell when our side-by-sides in the snow will melt.
Can't tell whether or not your scent on my pillow is worth its own separate wash.
Can't tell if these scattered pennies are mine or yours.
Can't tell if this sacred book, all of it, is accidentally dedicated to you.
Can't tell who you're holding at night - me,  or a memory.
Can't tell what you mean by "team effort."
Can't tell if my eyes have some dark, nefarious power over your decision making.
Can't tell where I'm supposed to touch you, how I'm meant to speak to you,
when it's right to see you, or if I'm ever allowed to love you.
Can't tell if you're enlightenment or poison.
Can't tell if the past was wasted or spent lovingly.
Can't tell when I'm hungry or tired or drunk.
Can't tell if I'm crazy in ones or twos.
Can't tell if I'm talking to myself.
Can't tell night from day.
Can't tell you.