Ask me a question—just one single thing.
Watch me blossom, then watch me ignite.
But this nothing is sharp; it’s a cold, steady sting.
You offer no wonder, and that is your right.
To the right man, I’ll rise as the sun.
He’ll be blinded, unable to turn or to stray.
But here, there is nothing. Interest? None.
Our souls are a fracture of night and of day.
You pined and you wept and you swore I was \"it.\"
Yet now that I’m here, you’re suddenly blind.
You let me just sit here? You simply permit-
The death of the ghost you spent months trying to find.
Someday, the earth will just stutter and stall.
When I enter a room, every pulse will go quiet.
He’ll look at me once and he’ll give me his all,
A longing so heavy it borders on riot.
But you? You’re a man who has never quite earned-
A life that is vibrant, expansive, and free.
You lack the same pull for which you once yearned;
You lack even basic, polite courtesy.
I could fake more concern for a ship lost at sea,
Than the hollowed-out interest you conjure for me