Fill You Up, Pour Me Out
Am I the one to blame when you come to the realization that you can no longer stay?
Because I know I make everything complicated when I tell you I want to know all of it.
Tell me about your day and what you saw; did you go out and have fun or do anything at all?
What colors did you wear and did you buy anything new? Did you accidentally run into somebody that you knew?
What did you say and what did you eat? Did you come up with any ideas you think are neat?
Tell me the things that you think are stupid because I promise you, I’ll be happy that I knew it.
Tell me the good, the bad, the worries and thoughts. Tell me it all so I know what I have got.
I need to know the details of everything big or small because that’s what I expect when I give somebody my all.
Maybe that’s the problem with me. I want too much communicating.
I think I would make it stop if I could because I ruin everything I have that has potential to be good.
I’m so deep in my mind that I sometimes get lost. I beg for somebody to understand what this costs.
Because I’d physically hand over my thoughts if only I knew how and I’d ask for yours in return because I’m empty now.
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