In the Centrifuge

When love is tired, does it retire?
Can you blame a man for taking refuge,
Even though it pains him inside?

When the body is exhausted,
And the mind is screaming for respite,
Is it wrong to expect for something more,
More tangible than what fingers can send,
More meaningful than what inebriated words convey?

Maybe it is wrong to have some expectations,
But can you blame a man to want to move up the ladder
When he feels like he has gone through the first steps?

When your love is true, why do I feel so blue?
Would it be hard to answer the question "what am I to you?"
When you feel that you do?
Or maybe it would be better or best
To find solace that time would provide the answer for you.

When loving you becomes harder,
Could you lend a hand to make it easier?
Or maybe I should also question if my love is true,
Because even my questions may all be askew.
Then I should find solace that time would provide me answers, too.