Not since that first night have we had a real conversation.
We make small talk which only hints at knowing more.
You dance around my questions and laugh at what I reveal.
But I see your poker face.
Avoiding showing emotion when I get too deep.
As inquisitive and truth-seeking as you claim to be,
Why don't you want to be known?
Why don't you want to know me?
If I didn't know better, I'd say you run the other way.
Avoiding all moments which could be construed as true intimacy.
As if even the thought of losing control scares you.
So you go back to orchestrating a reality in your overactive mind.
Because it's easier to avoid than feel.
But your mind is a liar.
Are you threatened by what I see in you?
A love born of authentic truth.
Of being fully known
And accepted.
I recognize your evasive maneuvers because I know them all to well.
Did you think you're the only man who's never loved me?
I suppose I never loved you the same way.
And it takes a coward to know one.