Deprived of love.
Frustration settles
nests within my mind
as I long to spend time
with the muse who pushes
me to write this line.

Hoping to place a kiss on the lips
that forces me to write about [anagrams] and [clouds]
before time runs out.

Feels horrible when we don't speak.
So much left to say but
she probably won't stay until forever.

I want to tell her that
through my mind she runs
but I swallow it all and
continue to bite my tongue.

I'm awkward, anxious, and
annoying and at the
moment she's capable
of keeping me stable.

Really wanted to see her today
and the frustration starts to add up
and I wonder if [fourteen]
cursed my heart from ever encountering love.

Asking if the letter [b] could be
the beauty responsible
for causing this curse to be broken.

Sorry for being the most annoying
human being on the planet and
I understand if you can't stand it
and my words have a tendency of
being redundant and repugnant.

Hoping she doesn't fall in love with
what I write and fall in hate with who I am.

Fixated on thing that don't belong to me
and nothing else is going well
and she's the only one that makes me happy.

Avoid getting ahead of myself
so let me stop writing and shut up.
She feels the same about me
so why does doubt keep coming up?

Plummeting into love too quickly
isn't new to me. It's always strange
but familiar.

Ranting at the moment cause her
love has left the door to my heart open
and if I could make the choice about
who to fall in love with I know
she's the one I would've chosen.