There was nothing poetic
About the way you couldn't really kiss that well
Or how I didn't know if you liked me, you made it hard to tell

But you probably did that on purpose
You made me feel like I had no purpose
That was easy to tell
And I knew it all too well

There was nothing poetic about the way you held my arms above my head
And straddled me in my own bed

There was nothing poetic about your lack of eye contact
And for that manner, lack of any tact

But there's something poetic about knowing what you were
A blue eyed monster in my bed
Trapped inside my head