I write as though you'll read it..
I wish as though.. you'll somehow.. give me what I want.
Yet, you hold back, like your carrying a secret.
One I wish I could help you burden..
I look out the window at life's... bleak existence.
It's somehow not so bright..
Not so warm.. as I remembered it.
Yet, when peering into your eyes.
Everything somehow is made right.
Asking myself questions over and over...
Can't you see, what I see?
Can't you feel.... what I feel?
Strangely with you there..
Everything is still left unanswered..
Haunting me...
Wishing.. hoping...
Wanting... needing..
Aren't those all just the same of the same?