Sometimes, I don’t know what I want.
I get this picture in my head; it taunts.
I explain away the problems and issues,
Completely forgetting about the coming tissues.
I don’t look before I fall, or maybe I don’t fall at all,
I simply listen and respond to the call.
I don’t really know if I feel something, if it’s real,
But even though you don’t know, my thoughts always feel
As if they are tied to you like an anchor,
Kind of like money to a banker,
I am shipped to you, and feel myself think of you,
Even though a moment ago I claimed it’s the last thing I’d do.