I’m so in love with you.
Tempted to ring yet I always withdraw,
I kind of feel lost without the image I have of you.
It’s tempting to call,
And I have,
You never picked up.
After all this time,
I’m through it all,
I’ve been able to handle it.
I’ve been able to hold it all back,
and now I’m still waiting.
The use of this poem would to be an allegory of growth and an image of leaving you behind.
But the problem is,
- insert name -
I can’t grow.
And this is not an allegory.
I’m waiting and I’m a little drunk,
I had so much to say and its all been wasted.
I was ready to talk and,
I suppose its for the best.
I wont give up in a hurry,
This is just a thought process,
Not a finality.
I like you,
Where do I finish this ?
"Don’t fuck with spirits" they say.
"Don’t summon things," they say.
"Don’t play with ouija boards" they say.
How is any hard-working necromancer supposed to get anything done around here?