Imperfection

Why is it so hard to tell you?
Why is it so hard for you to tell me;
tell me anything.
Tell me to go away,
tell me you hate me,
tell me you never want to see me again,
tell me you don't want me to stay.
tell me you can't,
tell me.
Speak to me.
Torture me with your voice,
kill me with your eyes.
Why the silence?

I know what I want to hear.
I want you to tell me to stay,
I want you to tell me that you live by seeing me everyday,
and that you want to stay too.
I want you to hold me,
I want to hold you.
I want to be the support to you that you support,
I want to be everything you need,
I want you to be everything I live on. 
I want so much...

There is no space,
no place to be, 
nothing.
You are the oxygen, I am the flame,
there will always be an explosion.
There will always be scars,
there will always be flaws,
always someone to blame.
How much ever we wish it away,
you are still the fire, I am still the rain,
there will always be a hope being put out.

There is no perfection,
no medium of communication that means anything,
there is always a disaster, 
there is always tears, 
always a broken heart,
there is nothing left to fight for...

Yet, somehow,
there is still so much said,
there is still a miracle,
there is so much to fight for...
there is still so much more to fight for...