being a writer is a tragedy
it is what's ruining me
and what pushed him too far
because i had deep feelings
and for once i had courage to speak
so everyday i told him
he was a galaxy
with planets for eyes
and stars for freckles
i told him how he was the sun
and i was a weed
basking in his light
that his bones were made of stardust
and he was so much more
than human
perhaps it was too much
i grew too fond, loved too hard
i hope one day he sees
i didn't mean to come off as
obsessive...attatched...weird...
i only wanted to love you
