I don't know even know what to write about you anymore,
But for some reason my hand is still moving across the page.
I've written so much about you ,
I'm running out of topics.
I've wasted so much paper, writing sonnets about your eyes.
You should apologize to the forest, not like the apology you gave me.
"I'm not ready,"
You said.
"I just need some time."
You said,
How many other girls got the same excuse?
How many other girls did you call your "baby" while I fell for you?
Fell for you like the trees in the forest being cut down for the very sheet of paper I write on.
No,give the trees a real apology
One I guess, I didn't deserve.
