i'm sick of writing about you and i'm sick of my friends talking about you, noticing the things i take note of too.
i can't control it, don't know why i want you to look at me instead of him.
you remember everything i tell you, and it drives me insane.
how can you expect me to be fine when you do those things and nothing more?
i'm so tired of analysing every look, and i just want to ask, but you still make me feel irrelevant sometimes that i'm scared of everything.
YOU ARE READING
muse
Poetry" because sometimes at night i like to muse, and maybe i could write these thoughts down "
