As low as nicknames go,
I chose the worst for you,I chose this as your position,
your time,
your place to me,
even if you're my third one,
you're all I can see.

You're my third one,
the third person to make me swoon,
You're my third one,
Though the first to make me feel torturingly alive,
You're my third one,
and you know what they say,
Third time's a charm.

I still feel guilty calling you Third

When you're my first
right now,right here,
Open or close,
My eyes,
They see your cheery white teeth
in your amazing smile,

My eyes,
They stare at your confident lazy eyes
coolly seeing,hiding your emotions in it's golden brown depths,

My eyes,
They appreciate your Greek-like,straight nose,
long with strength and sharp with confidence,

My eyes,
They see your mouse-like ears,
keen to casually hear
conversations you may not seem to care.
;
My eyes,
They see your fine build,
veins running downs places,up and over your tiny muscles.

My eyes,my heart,
they don't see your personality,
they only see the cool outside shell you've built around it.

Yes,occasionally,
you let go of that cool aura,
you goof off,you laugh,you act silly
with your friends.

And I'll stand there,
not even ashamed to stare
your perfection a glare
like your sun rays bear.

You like your sports,
your music,
your Dota 2.

I want to know everything about you.

That's the sad part,isn't it?
For me at least,I don't know about you.
I DON'T KNOW (ANYTHING)ABOUT YOU
YET I'M CRAAAAAZY
For you.

Get a hold of yourself,self.
The audience aren't here for screaming.
They want sadness ,tragedy,romanticism.
But ****,I can only give you guys 2.
There's no romance but in my head,my dreams,
torturing me with false hope and implanted feelings

No sadness but in my heart,
I can't have him,
I know,
I'm slowly tearing apart.

We don't talk,we don't speak,
we look,we glance,we sometimes take a dare and stare,
but
that's the only tweak.

There's no tragedy but in the non-romantic relationship between his friend and me,
I was called a stalker,
my best friend rudely rejected for small favors,
that's a tragic crushing history.

There were chances I could've taken,
if you,my Third One still sat on the bus,
when your sister wouldn't be between us,
but day after day
It slowly became a bust.

More sadness?
Well,summer's here.
I can't see you no more,
you didn't show the last week of school or the few days before.

I admit,I'm stalking you.
But I need you to stop stalking my mind,taking over my thoughts,my vision,
making me blind.
Maybe I'll forget about you the next 2 months.
It'll be hard but I'll try.