Talking to you is kind of like breathing:
I don't have to think, I just do it.
But talking to you is nothing like breathing
'Cause after I do it, that's when I think:
Maybe I shouldn't've said so many things.
The maybes and what ifs consume my brain,
Causing my thoughts to pace in circles,
Circling outcomes,
That'll never come out,
Of the simple conversation we had.

And the silence is little, but when it does come
It's awkward, but not in the way where I want to run,
In the way I'm strangely safe yet unsteady all at once.
And your eyes grab ahold
Of my thoughts and my words;
They all start to unfold.
And I'm scared I'll say something I really mean
Something serious-
Something a little too deep-
Something we'll probably, maybe, hopefully laugh about-

But for now:
Talking to you is kind of like breathing,
Something I simply can't live without.

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