Late at night, the speaker lies awake thinking about someone, and the poem never settles on what those feelings really are. They aren't sure whether seeing this person would make them bitter, whether anything they said would matter, or even whether they want it to matter. That uncertainty is the heart of the poem. The speaker imagines how the other person might react to something being "amiss" and decides they wouldn't know what to make of it.
The second stanza turns calmer, almost like a quiet reassurance. The speaker repeats that it "doesn't hurt" to feel this way, even while admitting that deep down they might not want it. The image of a "bleeding heart / Open for you" suggests vulnerability and pain, yet the speaker insists it doesn't feel like drowning. The mood is hushed, restless and a little guarded, as if the speaker is trying to convince themselves they're fine while the confusion lingers.