I'm out to hit

This is all the poetry I can't fit into conversation
-I hate the way you make this feel.
Because you know there's this one question
I'm losing grip over, completely
and sometimes I think I'd die
to give you that straight-shot answer.
I should tell you I'm tired of cover ups
and I'm sick of how it's never your name
-or mine, but that's a whole new miracle.
You'd think the world would hear right
or give it up;
but all I'm out to do is tell you, somehow.
Would it kill you to know that I..
I think you're more than all I want?
I'm sorry but I think you're the
comet-tailed shadow spark,
the one that hit that mark, head-on.
And I'd apologize for a million other things
-a million other things that I think
make you more like everything
(or more than everything),
honestly..
cause who am I, now that everyone's watching?
And all eyes are on you, no doubt.
How do I get to you, now?
Would it kill you to know?
Cause it's been killing me, nice and slowly