I haven't been writing these days and I guess
   I could blame it on a lot of things
    like how I could've written about how your eyes
    remind me of my guilty pleasures
         chocolates. oh! so delightful, oh! so sinful
             (it even describes you perfectly)
    and how much I love the the way
    you say my name
    and how I wish you called me more
         even if all you need is a hand
            (and not because you missed me at all)
    I could've written you a prose and your name
      could've been the only thing dripping
      on the pages of my journal
    I could've written all your favorite lines
      and pin them on my corkboard
    I could've written you songs after songs
      wishing that they will soon be your favorites

   but I guess I can't write about things
        that can be mistaken as my suicidal note
        because you're just killing me
        but I can't help but love the sensation