I twist and contort flinching as I grasp I feel my love is unsafe in your hands I don't judge your purity or presuppose your actions I need a safe place that valiantly resists the elements Deeds are filled with thousands of pages and images And words only confuse and clutter I know only my instincts, and what little glimpse I have of you I feel a strong drive to build bulwarks, protecting and isolating Your insecurity and needing to be loved creates such a complex fabric one can't see a common weave amongst the static If that is not enough, your defense team sees my eroding pedestal as weakness So throw in enough vagueness in discourse to alert even the steadfast and you see the perch from which I teeter.
