Figures of This Fighting

I focus on your fingertips when you slightly slip them over mine, just playing around, just pouring your heart out. But then you retract them and pretend this didn't happen, just a moment's notice and I'm tempted to think I imagined it by myself. So what's the story behind that sly tenderness? You're blending impulse with intention and driving me insane. Everyday there's some moment we take away, there's some missing words that haven't filled out the entire picture yet. Not quite colourful enough to be less-than-innocent, but not flagrant enough to do me violence. But I want your darkness, about as much as I crave your light; I want to dip in your delight and find the depth you pretend is out of sight. So why are you looking so intently in my eyes? Tell me what you hope to find and I'll be inclined to make it all come true. Just a few seconds between me & you and I'm invested all day in my abstractions.