love at its most psycho
|I write this sonnet in my blood so red,
To prove my heart does beat for only you.
I need you every second or I'm dead!
You are my breath, my life, my dearest true.
You look at me as if I were insane,
Since I keep your used Kleenex stuffed in jars-
But ANYTHING from you I want to claim,
In the event you wander much too far.
I long to be with you eternally,
So much I hate to close the bathroom door.
For then I could not see you as I pee,
That minute gone from you, I'd not endure.
So why do you repay my love in hate
By telling me you think you need some space?