I could fill a university library with poems
about your eyes & the galaxies they hide,
or about the constellations written in freckles
on your skin;
You couldn't even write a sentence to describe
the way your presence makes me smile,
or how my breath hitches whenever you say, 'Hi.'
because let's face it, I want you to be mine,
but you wouldn't give a **** if I were dead or alive.