the sight of soccer makes me sick the smell of old spice makes my eyes ***** seeing a buick makes me want to curl in a ball it always seemed like you stood so tall above me as i stood in your shadow you were are oblivious as you chat away every day pretending to care pretending like you want me there today you almost read my poems stupid to lend you my computer while it was up you read one two three before i freaked and pulled it away it makes me sick this hopeless devotion it curdles my stomach this senseless inward commotion reading like a sheakspere historian into your every word brush comment every time our eyes meet i fall a little more in love and get a little angrier at myself for succumbing to this foolish black hole of a sickness
well, im angry at myself a) for feeling like that for a guy who wouldn't notice if i never talked to him again and b) not paying enough attention before handing a boy ive written LOADS of sappy poetry about the computer where i have one of the poems up. one of the poems about him and he knows it was about him, but he... ugh!!!