1:1-3 1 Pt. 2

Crazy to think you’d take notice.
All the little things, the way I wear my hair.
It’s crazy all these little things, all these little things,
I do for you.

I hate that you’re so distant physically.
I don’t know if you have a heart, I can’t yet tell.
I wish I knew more about you.
Maybe there are things I could tell you,
Things about me that would tell you everything 
You could want to know, everything you needed to know
But I guess you’ll never know.

They told me to read the Bible.
I never have. But for sure I’ve had more
Religious experiences than can be counted.
Both in heaven and hell with thoughts of you,
The deepest pool of holy water couldn’t help me.
Or maybe I cannot remember them religiously 
Because they do not count.
Either way my soul is tainted,
Painted and stained like the interior glass windows of St. John’s Chapel,
Stained red for danger.

What does count? Tell me…
Does it count as fair when thoughts of you consume me?
Does it count as equal when I always talk first,
Always the initiator.
Do they count, all these little things I do?

I can’t tell if you’re being funny.
Giving me false hope, with the way you look at me.
I can’t tell if it’s all a lie, the way you make me feel.
I can’t even be in the same room, in case you couldn’t tell.
That’s why I’m skipping. 

Skipping meals. I can’t eat. Sleep.
Sleeping I see only you.
Impossible to eradicate your image from my mind,
No matter how hard I try, and I have tried.

A dark paradise unfolds around me again,
Surrounding me in a cloud of guilt, envy, jealousy,
There’s no relief. No release. You capture me.
Can’t or won’t let go. A mouse in your trap.
A little slither of hope, is it crazy? 
Is it really that crazy to think you might let me go?