Every time I let you in, you give me 10 reasons to push you away. Every time I ask you a question, you give me a response that will never make me want to ask you another question again. Every time I write you something, I regret it. Instantly, thanks to your comments. Or the lack of it. Every time I move away, you get closer. Every time I think this is a good idea, you prove to me that it’s not.
Every time I let go, I find a way to hold tighter again. Every time I begin to move, I find a way to stop dead in my tracks. Every time I ask you for space, you come 10 centimeters closer.
Cause when the ground starts to shake, you know you have two choices. Stand there or run. And right now, I just don’t what to do.