You don't know me very well

I'm sorry for waxing lyrical over this,

But if you thought I wouldn't,

Then you don't know me very well,

All these things you're saying,

They strike a chord of fear with me,

Of indescribable intensity,

And over me lies a stagnant feeling of helplessness,

While I ponder what the hell could have gone on,

To make you this sad,

This addicted to the pain,

This unwilling to let go,

(even though I don't expect it of you)



If I could give you anything,

It would be a slice of obliviousness,

Just for a day,

So you didn't have to think so hard,

About what has passed,

But what the fuck do I know?

I'm probably being insensitive anyway,

I want to scream to you:

"It'll be ok", but for all the cliché it holds,

"I'm here for you", but for the size of this,

Or even "I can help you", but for my naivety,

This bind is deep and I am blind within it.



Could it be too late?

Or just in time?

Or just that maybe



I don't know you very well?