I know I'd never talk about you and you'd be secret inside here for me all for me and only me because thats what you are.

a secret.

and telling other people would make you less of a secret and more of a truth but do we really want truth when we can be so content with our own little secrets.
if you weren't a secret I'd want you more and less but so much more and less again and you make my head whirl with all the things we say and never say oh why can't this be easy.

you make it so hard to be easy.
because you are contradictions, you are me.

and I hate how you're me and I'm you and I see but I don't see oh you see there I go again.
and again and again and again it whirls why won't it stop?
tie me paper lanterns to paper lightbulbs because you never really were there (are you here) and you want to shield me from reality;
but you are reality, and you're keeping me away from you.

(I replace angels on christmas trees with stars because sometimes I want you to fall.)

its so easy peasy pie to keep us separate but why keep it between (us) corners and clefts and you're the only thing I ever wanted to hide in.
stop hiding again.

I rant and ramble but I don't run.

why do you run?