Making Friends

I don’t know how to make friends

It always almost (almost always) finds an end

When affection blurs intentions, forcing useless confessions

I’m not entirely disinterested, but what are you doing?

You like things that i like, but that’s just pure coincidence

I don’t know how to be a friend

I tend to leave when there’s nothing there

Are we talking out of boredom?

Or are we just lonely?

We’re not entirely invested because we don’t have to be

Or am i just assuming?

'Cause that’s what i always do.