Writing

Limerence:
A strong infatuation with the desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings.

i hate being cliché

i really do,

but when it comes to you,

i never know what else to be.

staying up until the clock strikes 11 past 11,

just so i can ask for that simple thing

love

Remember when?

Do you remember when 
When we were thinking about how old we would be
When we reached 5th grade?
How brave we thought they were?

i hear his whisper daily,

"everything must be perfect..."

"hush!" i scream, but to no avail

"text again, they didn't see it"

i obey everything he says as if my life depends on it

every number must be a 5 or 0

I fell asleep,

in your lap,

my head on your leg,

It wasn't one those deep sleeps,

It was the kind when you still hear and feel everything but you are indeed,

asleep.

I sob for

something I think I

hate, but cry "no no no"

when asked if I

want to quit.

Because I just can't.

There is no

possible way

that I could quit.