Am I supposed to be the expert
When it comes to reading between the lines?
Exhaustion has become me
As I wade through pools of mixed signals.
It’s busy work.
Why kiss my forehead and ask me to
Stay the night?
Stay the night
In your arms, and yet I can’t call them mine.
I don’t want them to be mine, honestly,
And you tell me it’s nothing — but
I can’t help but believe that
You want me to want you
Though you’ll never want me back.
Am I supposed to be the expert
When it comes to these games?