What I think and what I feel, is out of sync with your intentions.
Your intentions they seem untrue, and your an imperfect as a human.
Which is ok you know, but the way you act.
Doesn’t follow. Don’t follow.
I hoped my actions shouted louder moved faster than a birds wings escaping from the light of a lorry at dusk.
I hoped my words where as fragile as a butterfly landing on a newly opened daffodil, I did.
I can’t give you everything, I could give you some cooking skills, do the laundry make you smile, bake , shade you from all your mistakes, I could give you a life, I don’t have to be your wife. I’m happy if your happy. But your not happy and I’m unhappy and your too close to your imperfections to focus on the perfections, I can’t bring you closer and I can’t make you a non smoker. Your angry at me but I never know why. I hate it when I cry, I cry. There is nothing that you want and it makes me hollow as a woman I can’t heal you or hear you.
Your intentions, intentions.