We're playing a game like we're children
Afraid of real contact
We've created an elementary mess.
It's a journal we pass around
Like little notes we made when we were 5
I begin to understand how childish our relationship is
What relationship?
The one I'm too afraid to concrete.
The one that I say I'm not ready for.
Everyone says how perfect we are
And yet
I still excuse myself and push you away
I still don't want a relationship with you.
But I want to stop these little games.
I want to have a real talk
You waited for me after Kaiser's class today
I'm still unsure of all of this.
Why do you continue to talk to me?
I expected you to be done when I rejected you.
And rejected you
And rejected you.
I've said it before and I'll say it again.
I do not understand you.
