So maybe sometimes
I dig in your eyes
Half-believing falsehoods are physical things
And if I just look hard enough, I will find them.
I can pan them out, like gold in Oregon Trail
But really more like bugs in my food.

So maybe sometimes
I breathe, in/out/in/out
Before I tell you I love you
Because maybe I'm still a little afraid.
Because I don't tell people that
And I don't like to be vulnerable.

So maybe sometimes
If your arms aren't a vise at night
I wonder if you are trying to give me the option to escape.
And maybe I wonder if you need one.
Maybe I wonder if I should treat you like a genie:
"I wish for your freedom."
The problem being I don't wish for that, at all.

So maybe sometimes
I want to remind you
That you aren't chained to me
And there's always an out, if you want it.
Not that I do.

It's just that maybe sometimes
I have trouble believing in you
And it's not your fault
It's just in my head
It's just in my history.

But maybe sometimes,
Like you said once,
I don't like myself enough to believe
You would want to stay.