It’s never who you think it is.

My bed is half empty or half full. Hands by themselves are unfinished puzzles. Eyes can see forever when staring into others. Now, I’m looking for every reason to say something. Any way to get your attention. I just want to watch TV in your apartment and walk around your town. Drink until the sun comes up and fall asleep on the ground. But when I look in your direction my mind turns off. Leaving me defenseless as the gloves slide off. But you don’t even meet me in my dreams. This always sounds worse than it seems.