Sweet Nothings.

In love? Yes, no, maybe.
In doubt? Yes, could be.
I feel like flying,
lifting off the ground,
but I'm so scared,
what if I get another wound?
Will I live to take another blow?
Will I still be able to love you?
Those sweet nothings,
those sheepish smiles,
staring at each other over miles,
those never-ending mazes,
those mind games so endless,
it's like voluntarily drowning,
in marshes so bottomless.
I try to shake myself to reality,
but gone in me is the sanity,
that I once took pride in,
there's a new me within,
an old cover, just new pages,
gently flipping apart in the breeze,
that's how you make me feel.