You owe me exactly nothing
and someday I mean to collect.
It isn't a question of timing
only a matter of abject neglect.
I'm impoverished of your affection,
a situation requiring impossible correction,
while I'm privately eyeing the prize
I'm denying I treasure.
You're my guilty pleasure.
I owe you exactly nothing
and somehow I'm preparing to pay.
It isn't a question of why
just a matter of finding a way.
just a matter of finding a way.
You're immune to my useless distraction
out of tune with my limited power of attraction
while you're silently crying. Your
eyes should be good for
more than perennial waterfalls.
more than perennial waterfalls.
I have no opinions but those
that I keep under wraps.
Your doubts and their minions
might catch me up quick in
exquisitely beautiful traps.
exquisitely beautiful traps.
But life is too short to be hiding
with longings unspoken.
And a heart's not in play if it's
always afraid to be broken.
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