Am I jumping to conclusions?
Or is what I think, how it is?
So little communication,
Always has me in a tizz.
Am I Arthur, or maybe Martha?
I no longer know, or care.
Just tell me what you’re after,
So I can tell you if I dare.
You’d think it would be easy,
To walk away from all of this,
But the thought just makes me queasy,
And I know it could be bliss.
So if by chance you find,
This little thing I wrote,
Would you help calm my mind,
Or even call me up to gloat?
Because at least that way I’d know,
Just where and how I’m at.
Can I let my feelings grow?
Or do we say that is that?


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