Just cranked this out. I feel better.

Fire used to dance between our lips
but now it spouts from your fingertips
holding my hand yet letting it go
not bothering to hide, with no emotions to show
you smell of rushed thought and haggard feelings
showing things that leave me reeling
in your eyes you show me how you saw us
a big tall you, and me, just out of touch
but did you reach? Did you fight?
Did you think of me when you slept at night?
Did I haunt you as you did me?
Did you ever see yourself upon one knee?
Or was that all your fantasy?

My hands itch to slap and my lips long to kiss
the love sick face I've learned to miss
When blood shot eyes became blood clad arms,
did you reach to save me from harm?
The answer is no, we both know that
you claimed it was more of an issue of “can't”
and I'd bow my head, comfortable with yielding
not seeing the steep slope down which I was heading
your murmurings used to comfort me
but now I'm beginning to see
we were living in a fantasy

I cannot hate you, because the fault is shared;
it's not a question of either of us having cared
A simple glance could show that it was true
You loved me, and I loved you
But we were both idealistic and stupid, you know.
I thought you'd change, and you let go
assuming that we'd ok with no work at all
regardless of when I would try to call
and tell you, bluntly, we needed to talk
“Not now love,” you'd say, “I need to take a walk.”
And I'd recede, as is my habit
Not raising a fuss for a fear of...well, this.
And now you've had your say, as I can see
Now there's you, and now there's me,
And I'm sick of living in a fantasy.