these boots are made for being set on fire

Can you tell that I am all lies?
Can you tell that I am not the person I pretend to be? Not the person I used to be?
Can you tell that I wish I could feel the things I say?
Can you tell me where this is going?

I think we know. I think we both know.

No where.

I'm so tired today, baby, can't you pick me up in your car and take me to your place? We can lay in your bed and listen to music. I'll put my head on your chest and stare at the ceiling. Your hand will softly rub my hair and we'll sigh. Then it could rain and we could spoon and listen to your cat meow for attention. We could eat chinese take out and watch TV on your computer and have long, slow sex.
I ache for this.
I ache for the mundaneness of a sure thing. I want to find someone to be with; someone I don't have to worry about. Someone that is present but not ever-present.

Can we just be?
Can I just be?

I go back and forth. What am I doing? I would like to talk to him. I want to figure things out.