I don’t know how to hold you down.
I’ve looked at you for a long time and I think that you’re finally mine now,
but I don’t know how to hold you down.
I reached out my hand and I grasped at you once you were free,
and you sat in my palm for mere seconds before you were gone again, dancing so gleefully just beyond my fingertips.
It feels like I can’t touch you, like I can’t see you, like I can’t get close.
It feels like I’m talking to a void, empty and aching and cold.
I tell you sweet things I think about you in the quiet of night and you smile at me and tell me that you’re happy,
but I can’t ever tell what you really mean or what you really feel.
I take us on dates and cuddle you to my chest and hold you as tightly as you’ll let me,
and every time I open my eyes after a night of little sleep I’m afraid you won’t be there when I wake.
You told me dating you would be a little different than I was used to,
but I guess I didn’t really believe you, and now I don’t really know what it means.
You still talk to your ex on the phone sometimes,
and still have the shirt she gave you.
And you tell me she annoys you and that you hate her so fucking much sometimes,
but it seems to me that you’ll never let her go.
Because you haven’t, even though she’s given you every reason to.
And it leaves me somewhere on the edge, trying to fill a gap I can’t even see.
It seems to me you move so fluidly in and out of love, so fluidly in and out of commitment
that anyone could approach you and ask for your hand and you’d give it to them without another thought.
And maybe that’s just me being afraid, just me not knowing how to understand.
But I’ll tell you now, before this thing we have even really begins.
I don’t know how to hold you down, and I don’t know if I can.
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