It’s not you
When I reached out to know you again
It’s not you, it’s never been you
You weren’t enough, you aren’t enough
You wouldn’t ever be
Even given half the chance
You’re the one that got away
No, you’re the one that never was
And your mystery surrounds me
Your sycophantic fever
Clings to me tightly, salty and sweaty
The heavy words you use to draw me in
Syrupy and devoid of truth
It’s not you, It’s an idea
Whispering, Singspiel at 2 a.m.
Talking art, everlasting souls and politics
Over some bad phone connection
With the moonlight pouring in
Drowning me, suffocating me
Dripping through my hair onto the pillow
And I love you for those moments
And I hate you for those moments
And they never became more
But they’ll never become less
They just sit in the annals of our history
Smoldering, festering, inspiring
It’s not you
I just thought it might have been
Because the mystery still lingers
Still stirs and questions
But you never disappoint
In that you always disappoint
So let’s both be clear, it’s not you
And it never will be
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