You have no idea

what it took to find you,

and you have no idea

what it’ll take

to loose you again—

again, as if it were like

misplacing my keys.

You have no idea

that I so badly want to blame

myself, because it’s easier

to be a martyr

than the crazy woman

in love with you.

Who said you deserve my love?

No one, no one, no one

in their right or wrong mind—

except me.And there you have it,

the fucking truth

that makes no sense,

because I don’t want to be logical

or reasonable,

or even remotely complacent.

You have no idea,

and I have too many—

too many thoughts

and uncompromising

irrationalities.You have

no idea what it’ll take to lose you

again—but after that,

when my fingertips are scorching,

and my everything has shaken

loose, and low,

my eyes will never be the same, again,

but you won’t see them

to know (or not know) them, anymore.