Do you want me?

 I have so much to say, until I don’t.

Do you want me — or the idea of me?

Tell me you want me. Tell me… or don’t.

I want you, I want you.

But do you want me?

I feel free until you come back to want me.

Gosh, the bubbles inside — the ones I try to hide —

each filled with a way you make me stay.

Each time I walk away,

you pull me to stay.

I want you, I want you.

But do you want me?

And maybe that’s what hurts the most —

not knowing if it’s love,

or if I’m just your almost.

I want you, but do you almost want me?

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