you do not know how much I want you i am torn to pieces all the dreams I wear are ruffled with creases you do not know how much I want you and every time you ask me about me? How do you feel? i am found wanting and lost trying to make it seem real i can't tell it in words i have screwed up my hope and it has followed my verse i wait for the telephone and it does not get much worse have a funeral for my sanity choose a fitting hearse you do not know how much I want you
The Boy Behind The Glasses. Poetry and Writing 