Drowning, really, in the sorrows of my own
I could have grabbed
that line of fence beyond what I know
and what I could feel everytime you touched
a part of me
a hand on my back,
fingers in my hair.
When can I feel that again?
Lips pressed and eyes looking away,
you said no, never again.
And I listened, and waited, and waited
because that wasn't us.
We didn't do serious,
Talking? No.
We did arguments for phones not answered
13 missed, once caught
we did that,
and we did it with smoke curling around us.
Courage didn't find me,
didn't wait or bother to.
Turns out courage didn't find you either,
you could so easily
say no to me and the touches I give
standing so silently,
when hands find my skin absently,
like I'd always be there for you to touch.
I am though in a sense,
and I'll stand here,
your hands for me,
willing myself to find somebody,
anybody
like you.
