It's funny how conversation can change things,
and how the words that spill from my mouth
aren't the same ones you paint upon my skin.
The days that decay you are the same that betray you
and your lips quiver at the thought of it.
Would you still hold me close at night
if I would have never sparked the conversation.
If all my effort ran dry and you held the canister
would you use it to help me bloom
or would you let me slowly wither away?
I am done being the one man machine
for this two-way street.
It takes two to tango and I'm dancing alone,
drenched in sweat while you watch from the sidelines.
I don't think you know what it's like
or do you? and is that why you pause before every choice?
Are you too scorned by your past to realize -
I need you to try for me,
and maybe this is me being selfish
or spoiled or something
but I don't want to feel like one of the games on your shelf
I don't want to have to grasp you by the jaw
just so you give me something to work with.
There is no conclusion if your words are elusive.
I just want mid-day 'I love you' reminders
or appreciation pictures of us together.
I don't need too much, just a little is enough.
The hands that hold me up
consequently are the same ones that hold me back.