Are you, yet, in love?/
It may seem silly, but I/
thought I’d risk asking.

That I could once again/
lay in your arms,/
turn my face toward your charms/
and whisper, deep,/
words of understanding,/
questioning,/
probing,/
asking,/
as the sunrise/
created a halo/
around your hallowed face,/
and I felt peace.

She fantasizes/
there are muses other than/
she. She’s so naive.

Do you remember/
this place? The smile it put on/
your face? It still can.

Why should I grovel?/
She’s said the same thing ever/
since she first met me.

She doesn’t want to/
date, nor have relationships,/
but she still goes out.

The Maitre’D smiled/
and suggested she should check/
the posted specials.

I want you to hurry back.
I want you to miss me.
I want you to decide.
I want you to kiss me.
I want you to do stuff with me.
I want you to just be.
I want you to keep calling me.
I want you to keep enthralling me.
I want you to keep texting me.
I want you to stop vexing me.
I want to you stop worrying.
I want you to keep blog stalking.
I want you.
I want you, too.

Maybe as a lone/
stick-in-the-mud, boring is/
what she’s looking for.