I hear from you now and then, less now than before. Sometimes I think it's because I didn't respond fast enough when you told me your mom was dead. I'm sorry things didn't work out with your dad. I wish I knew more. I wish you told me more. Now, when you tell me things, its meaningless stuff. It's filler. You used to talk without even thinking, about good things, real things. But now, it comes and goes, this thing we have.
The truth is, you scare me. But it's not your fault. I think more than anything, the idea of you scares me, the idea of you and me, the idea of us. You're too smart for me, I think sometimes. You're too evolved, too mature. I'm not there yet. Maybe I make up too many excuses as to why this won't work. It's probably because I know I can't keep a good thing.
I look back to the beginning days, the first conversations, the first time I saw who you really were. Since I've passed that point of asking you about yourself, I find myself just really wanting to know the simplest of things... What's your favorite color? Where did you grow up? What's the name of the first boy you've kissed? Have you ever kissed a girl? What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Why do you hate me? Oh wait.
The truth is, you scare me. But it's not your fault. I think more than anything, the idea of you scares me, the idea of you and me, the idea of us. You're too smart for me, I think sometimes. You're too evolved, too mature. I'm not there yet. Maybe I make up too many excuses as to why this won't work. It's probably because I know I can't keep a good thing.
I look back to the beginning days, the first conversations, the first time I saw who you really were. Since I've passed that point of asking you about yourself, I find myself just really wanting to know the simplest of things... What's your favorite color? Where did you grow up? What's the name of the first boy you've kissed? Have you ever kissed a girl? What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Why do you hate me? Oh wait.