The Distance I Create

Why do I build walls around my heart, then panic when I see us drift apart? I pull you close, then push away, and hate myself for every day. The closer you get, the more I fear, that you might see too much of me here. So I turn cold when I want you near, then beg the silence not to disappear. I make a storm where there was calm, then reach for you like some kind of balm. I pull you through my highs and lows, then wonder why you're getting close. I watch your patience slowly fray, while finding newer ways to make you stay. I love you hard, then make you bleed, then hate myself for what I need. Why do I run when I want to stay? Why do I ruin what I love that way? Why does closeness feel like a threat, when losing you is my greatest regret? It's like my hands don't know the truth they build the cage, then blame the roof. I hold you tight until you ache, then fear the moment that you'll break. I know someday you'll tire of this, of every wound beneath a kiss. And when you finally walk away, I'll swear I knew you'd leave someday. Maybe I'm scared that love won't last, so I destroy it from the past. Maybe I leave before I'm left, so I can blame myself instead. But knowing why won't make it stop, and every promise seems to drop. I keep repeating what I fear I push you away because I need you near.