You talk about love as if it truly exists.
You don't know anything about it, it's the mystic of it all that makes it hard to resist.

It's the feeling in your spine that climbs and smolders
Or the churning of your stomach as those pouting lips get closer

It's a thousand different venerations with a thousand other variations.
A word with more connotations than hate but less than friendship.

So; friend-girl-thing, here's a question - a kindasortailike you kinda thing -

I was just thinking...
Hey you...
You know, just sorta mumbling...
How are you...
Kinda, sorta staring...

Do you love me?

...
....
.....

It's alright. You don't have to say a thing.
Words don't express these things easily.


Or wait...
You...
What?

Oh. Alright.
Nevermind.

S'never easy to be eloquent when you're heart's been ripped out, is it?

So say it loud, say it proud.
The look, oh how it suites you now.
So, say it loud, say it proud
That look, oh how it suites you now.

It's kinda like a knee between the eyes.
Suprise, suprise.
Never knew I had it in me?
The new kid, known for onetwothree -
-And he's already in love.
Withyou...
Withme...


Now, don't say a word.
Silence is always what I deserve...
Now, don't say a fucking word.
Silence is always what I deserve....

...I see you there, just standing there, beautiful and perfect and everything I'd ever want.
...And you're everything I'll never have.

Don't look this way, please.
It only kick-starts my id-io-cy.

Another question.
I have to ask.
What do you see when you look at me?

An immature teenager?
A mystery?
...A loser?

It makes me wonder. Am I trying too hard?

So, keep staring, please.
Confusion keeps me on my knees.
So, keep staring, please.
Confusion keeps me on my knees.

I want to bathe in your saccahrine scent,
These lips want to trace their way in ascent,
Everything you are completes me.

[Man did that sound cheesy.]

So, please, please ignore the friction in your knees.
This time, please, don't try to keep me as you please.
Hey you, yeah, just don't, don't define this 'thing' as me...

It's love and trust and everything.
It's.
This.
A poem has no rhyme or just-fi-ca-tion.
It's.
Just.
A teen trying to do something without a rami-fi-ca-tion.

It's just a soul and a voice never heard.

And you know what...?

...Obsession is never an ugly word.