You know I want it, and I do.

You know I want it, but I can't give it to you. Because it's not mine to give, even though I'd share a million blank stares just to see your face and mine in harmony. Slow and sweet. Real and really surreal; and all the tall-tales you've heard about my short-self would seem to be nothing at all. You know I want it, and I do. I'm not a liar, and I can't deny what's true... because it's true. You have to pick your poison, and my checklist didn't include throwing it all away when involving anyone's sake but my own. It's an excuse, and the words grow old. But you kept me out of the cold, and I really liked that.