this is what happens when you stay up till 4 a.m. getting deep and talking about history class.
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call me van gogh because i'll long for you like your name is gauguin,
i'll paint these starry skies that keep my lonely heart hollow company because that's all that subsides this pain,
i want your love but its unrequited so my pallet always ends up running into the tear-stain-blue of "i don't love you",
my god i can't paint to save my life unless you're my muse and you allow me to cover you in metaphors,
these days have left me to run myself dry of any hope i had for your reciprocations,
and i'll drink up your affections like yellow paint my dear, it may very well kill me.
but oh, at least in death i'll feel something of happiness and something of your love.
