There’s something about your eyes that I can’t help but think about the lies that are hiding. But they’re not really hiding are they? They just haven’t been spoken properly to each other; we have spoken properly to each other. I’m sorry when I can’t stop staring when we talk or when I look at you and you look at me, it’s just that I can’t help but feel that I want more than what is not ‘we.’ I’m sorry that didn’t make sense, it always makes more sense in my head, but you won’t ever get there, or my heart. I’m sorry but I’ve been corny from the start. I’m asking all these questions and assuming, but they’ll never be answered. I’m sorry.
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