I Can’t

My words used to reassure you
Easily, if imperfectly

You never used to feel the need
To read my eyes in the morning,
Check my pulse whenever you wake
And find me sleeping a bit too quietly

The looks you give me now that say
You’re scared I won’t be here tomorrow
Are changing into ones that say
You want to leave instead of fear

And the pulse of needless guilt
That keeps you here is dying fast,
And when it does, your words will come
So quietly, and easily, and perfectly,
I almost want to say them for you