I just want to see you again.
I don’t know how to say that 
in a way that won’t sound like 
I’m in this thing farther 
than you, as I am, 
but I just want to see you again.

I sometimes think I should just call.
I get tired of the texting 
and pressing like on the walls 
where the words you write 
could be for me or for all...
Would you pick up the phone if I call?

I’m afraid that I’ll fall too fast.
I’m afraid of lessons 
I’ve learned from my past.
I’m afraid of the look 
I can imagine on your face.
I’m afraid you don’t want to be chased.

Would you like to meet up for a drink?
It doesn’t matter when
or where, I just think 
I’ll need to hold onto something 
everytime that you blink,
if you’d like to meet up for a drink.

Or would you like to come over sometime?
We could watch British comedies 
and talk about the way that we 
both seem to laugh 
at all the same punchlines,
if you’d like to come over sometime.

I’m afraid I’ve already fallen deep.
But I’m afraid to take the next leap.
So I’m afraid I might miss out 
on what was meant to be.
I’m afraid I might need 
you to be braver than me.

Would you like to show up in my songs?
I can only wait so long 
without coming on too strong 
and recording these words 
that keep coming out wrong, 
if you don’t want to be in my songs.

But I hope that you will sing with me.
What if the song is beautiful? 
What if the song is sweet? 
What if the song’s the song that we 
were both meant to sing?
Would you sing along with me?