I sit here, pen in hand,
and all day —
you’ve been the only one on my mind.
Dangerous, maybe,
unhealthy, surely,
to let you live there rent-free.

I love you so much
it’s grown into obsession.
I laugh at myself,
begging for your attention,
knowing it’s not your fault
you can’t give me what I crave.

You love me —
but I am not your priority.
Not yet,
or so I tell myself.
It stings sometimes,
but maybe it’s good —
it means your eyes stay fixed on your goals,
and that focus is one of the reasons
I fell for you.

Oh, how I wish I could be like you.
To hide my feelings,
to match your pride,
to meet your ego head-on.
To not fold when your silence comes,
to not be the first to give in
when we clash.

It’s unfair —
how I love more than you love me.
Unfair —
that I would bleed for you,
and still offer the last drop of my blood
if you asked.
That I would place you above everyone,
even those who gave me life.

Sometimes I wonder —
do you laugh at me?
Do I look foolish
when I run back into your arms?
I want to love you,
but not so deeply
that I lose my dignity.
Yet I want you to feel
every heartbeat
that beats for you.

I know you love me.
But I also know
there are twenty things you care about
before me.

Still — I’ll wait.
I’ll wait for the day
you open the walls around your heart,
for the day you aren’t afraid
to show your affection.
Because my love
is patient enough
to stand in the cold
until you let me in.