What I can feel
I've never felt before
This burning desire
I just can't ignore

It must be a spell
Cast from hell
What else could this be
Who has taken hold of me

This evil temptation
I cannot resist
You must truly be
The most evil witch

Your enchanting eyes
And irresistible lips
That dark blonde hair
And those beautiful hips

But I have to resist
I have to be strong
Before I do something terribly wrong

I've spent restless nights writing poems to and about you with heavy eyelids; poems you'll never read, poems I'll never have the guts to let you read, poems you'll never even know about.
I've described every single part, perk, quality of you with the most beautiful words I can find in the dictionary because you don't deserve simple, ordinary words.
Even your flaws are beautiful.
And still, I cannot string any of the million words in any language together to describe you or my love for you perfectly.
And I write about you like you sank your paintbrush in a cup of universe and created hundreds of galaxies; like you placed the stars in the sky, neatly arranged them into beautiful constellations.
Here is yet another poem for and about you, written with eyelids as  heavy as the ocean at 3:36 in the morning, after deciding there was no way I could sleep as my mind was still awake and thinking about you- as always.

I can’t shake this feeling like I’m a bother to be around.

Not important enough for someone to muster up a conversation with first

Not important enough to wait for

Not good enough to be the first option or best friend 

Not good enough to please anyone

Not worth much at all.

I’m so deep under this depression and I’m not sure how to get out