Right up here, feel what I'm pointing to. Right up here, come close inside. Forced to believe that you're not listening. Silent again as you push against the handle. A desire pokes through the warmness in our skin. Forced to believe you won't answer me. At least that's how it is. And I wish you could feel just how you make me feel. Rather than put it back together, we can sit and watch it crumble. That's not the answer I was looking for. That's not the answer I want.