I can't risk it
I won't let myself
Put myself through all that **** again
I won't.

What?

You don't believe me?

...

It's how I look at you, isn't it.
The hope.

I didn't think it would show so plainly on my face.
Never wanted it to.

I suppose now that is has you expect me to explain myself
I refuse.

well, maybe just a little.

I parallel myself to the man who drowns on a boat in a freshwater lake
Surrounded by love
And somehow distanced from it.

I have grown to slap the hand that reaches for the water
And that hand has learned to remain
hidden.

I am a lost soul who speaks in metaphors because the truth would hurt you
and God knows I don't want that
Playing with words, toying with a melody
It keeps me sane.

So if a glance slipped out from within
I apologize

It won't happen again.