Did you want to say more? Have I missed the most important thing?
There is something in your stance, in your voice, an uneasiness
A shifting of weight from one foot to another and a downwards glance
Even I can't miss the signs of such discomfort, dense as I am.

I trawl through our conversation looking for clues as to it's cause
But I just can't see the wood for the trees, the forest is too dark
and the feeling of foreboding builds as I see your eyes brim over.
Oh god, more tears, more time to be spent here listening to pain.

I feel unable to find the level of patience and compassion you need
It has all gone you see, I feel used up, washed up, totally alone
and yet your eyes drive me to try, for my concerns are not yours
and what sort of friend can't even take some time to sit and listen.

When is it my turn? The thought came into my mind some time later
and though the selfishness struck me at once, so did the truth.
That this friendship is something of real value but also of inequality
for what you tell me I would not tell you, which makes me the coward.

And thus the inequality I perceive is not so much a lack in you at all
but rather a lack in my ability to match your trust, your expectation
and this about-turn in my thinking has led me to an unexpected place
somewhere I recognise, a place of vulnerability and overwhelming fear.

If I open this door and let the light shine in, will I die? Is it so bad?
Why does the level of fear build to such a degree that I lock up inside
Next time you ask "and how about you" I really must try to say more
For I know that only along that path does true friendship lie waiting.

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