Your hand writing is jagged, on the little notes you leave me.
My thoughts are just as bad.
I can't focus on one thing.
The world is blurred, as if peeking through a corn syrup looking glass.
I'm falling out of myself,
And in love with you.
I'll pretend 'just friends'
Is just fine.
You know me so well,
All of me
Except for this little ball of infatuation I hold so close to my heart.
I'll Keep my hands closed over it,
So that you won't see.
You won't see me.
You won't see. . .
I thought I was crazy,
When my hit-on-you jokes, were just that:
Jokes (to you).
But your word, one day gave me hope.
This little ball blossomed.
But I'll never show you,
I promise, I'll never force you to know.
I'm falling out of myself
And in love with you.
It kills me when you say you're lonely
Because all I want is for you to hold me.
I don't know who I am
Except me waiting for you.
Waiting on anything, everything, even if it's just to tell me you have to go.
I miss me, not being in love with you.
Not wanting you.
Because then I was completely honest.
Now everything I say is only partially true.
I'm still waiting for my Butch Cassidy line:
"Kid, the next time I say, "Let's go someplace like Bolivia," let's GO someplace like Bolivia."
Please let me runaway with you.
I wish you knew.
But I'll never say
I'm falling out of me,
And in love with you.
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