Even though we live in the same city,
we go months without seeing each other
and when I see you, you’re always distant,
you’re always cold even when the sun is out.
We don’t always call each other
but somehow I know what you’re up to.
Somehow I know what’s happening in your life.
Sometimes I feel like an outsider with all your secrets.
And sometimes you drink a little
and your eyes tell a different story.
Your vulnerable voice tells me you hate this distance.
Your body tells me you’re afraid of getting closer.
And I try to reassure you by holding you.
It’s like I’m telling you don’t hesitate to be near.
Don’t doubt my feelings for you
but then you sober up and push me away.
And I’m tired of trying to bridge the gap between us
when you keep stretching it.
I’m tired of trying to interpret your actions
when all I get is your resounding silence.
But I still think you’re closer to me
than the one who holds my hand.
And maybe if you stop pretending
you’ll end up next to me.
Because I still believe that this distance
is nothing but an illusion we both created
to protect ourselves, but we both know
that we suck at guarding ourselves from each other
And one day you’ll come closer and we’ll meet halfway.