the bags under my eyes don't matter, don't ask about them.

i'd rather you give me a rough estimate of how many times you tossed and turned last night.

you don't love me.
        i'm in love with you.
               this isn't a desperate plea
                       for you to love me back.
                              the baby's crying,
                                     i have to go.

please understand that
you left me
a scattered mess
of bright lights,
a mere insult to
the constellations
i used to be.

fall in love when
the want to write about me becomes a need

realize you're in love when
thinking about me after the rain becomes habit

say you're in love when
my touch becomes your very lifeline