You don't want me
Is it?

It's okay
I understand.

No one wants a stupid
Poetic, weak guy like me.

Is it wrong
For me to want you
So bad
I feel like I'm going insane
Because every second possible
My mind would search for your scintilla

****, your eyes.
******.
I'm just, oh god
Just so in love with your eyes.

I always imagined myself
Staring into the ocean
And storms inside your cold eyes
Reminding me how lucky I am
To ever have you.

I guess
Write about you
Is all I can ever do.

Why?
Ah, the reason is easy.
You don't want me.

Tongues can slay
Taste your words before spitting them out
They can be so easily led astray
It's not good to make someone pout.

.

*If I were a poem
I’d ask you to fold me up
and put me in your pocket,
then at the end of the week,
toss me in the wash
with the rest of the clothes

And when you find me later,
smudged and smeared,
ripped and tattered into
little unrecognizable pieces,
don’t worry about it,
I was already like that