My mind explodes in thought.
Of everything I said, everything I want to say, everything that could be said. My eyes can't focus on anything for too long, they drift away.
They sparkle and green ideas gaze into some non-existant future.
My concentration stutters and fails.
You cause it do that often, actually.
My ears are filled with Etta James's heartbreak and love affairs.
I easily feel her voice.
I am sorry I made this invisible mold for you.
I know I made it, but I don't want you to fit it.
Please, don't ever fit it.
I only want things from you that you want to give me.
words included.
No matter what my lips display and ask of you, be you.
I only want you, your brokeness, your perfections, and your broken belongings.
The only thing you need to provide is what I fell in love with.
All I want is the one thing I think about all the time.
All I need is the thing, that no matter of everything that has happened, I can't shake the desire to have-the thing I never want to lose the desire to have.
My green ideas dull slightly as the salty, liquid pain escapes.
You are worth the tears.
Yes, Etta, I do want a Sunday kinda love.
Sometimes I am not sure he does, Etta.
I said it already...when you know what you want, I will be here waiting.
Everything ripped away, this is all I have.
This is all you get.
Do you want it?
Sorry, I forgot, you don't know; and I will not ask again.
I am only strong enough to be weak once.
I am one of your broken belongings, you know?
I am not sure you ever asked for me, or purchased me, but that is just the way it is now.
All I do is go out of my way to make you feel good, to feel better, to be happy, to give you whatever it is you don't know if you want.
All I do is love you the only way I know to love something amazing like you.
Everything you said, ever, quickly drowns out Etta.
My green ideas are quickly becoming red and the water will not stop falling.
Yes, I hear what you say and I understand.
You do not understand, and I am so scared to try and explain it to you.
I know, I know, nothing I can say will change anything; but it has before and it will now.
I can't shut it off.
The button of over analyzation has been pressed.
You know all to well the switch to this insanity lies nowhere, but everywhere.
It's the tiny, meaningless things that break my heart.
The silly things I wish you would do, you know; the silly things I do with my best friend.
Those things I am not sure you are comfortable with, or maybe they are things you just don't want to do with me.
Maybe you are afraid of them?
I can't ask you for them, that goes back to the mold.
You aren't the one squeezing to hard; I am breaking my own.
Maybe I do it for you, so you do not have the guilt of its emptiness.
Words just fucking stroll and march out, and I can't stop them; and sometimes I do not even know what I'm saying until it has been broadcast over a network of destroyed emotions.
I do my Sunday dreaming every minute, and every hour of everyday.
I'm aware that is all they are...silly dreams.
Stupid, unrealistic, silly dreams of a stupid girl with sad, tearful, green ideas.
Someone to keep me warm when Monday and Tuesday are too cold.
I love the fact you would never lie to me.
You would never tell me what I want to hear.
Don't ever stop doing that, no matter what I say.
I'm scared to sleep; I have had enough flawlessly not achievable dreams about you while I have been awake.
Go ahead, tell me again, and again, and again, and once more.
Actions speak so much louder, and I believe you anyway when you speak your gorgeous words.
I am not enough, this is not enough, even if it makes you happy for now.
I'm aware that I am better than nothing at all; but what of me and my long, lost sunday love when something better comes along?
I do so tire of being treated differently.
Please explain it to me.
Fucking tell me why it has to be different in front of certain people.
Infact, why do some of the things you say to other girls in front of everyone, jokingly, taste sweeter than the real things you say to me.
I don't care, I refuse to let small flirtations bother me.
My sad green ideas keep flirting with closing and sleeping.
I know I flirt too much; I catch myself and stop now, just for you.
It is always only you, for you, everything for you.
I hate feeling naked and vulernable and weak.
I hate feeling like I am not worthy or good enough.
I love feeling like you love me.
I am going to push away the crazy, randomness now, and just be.
I wish it were with you; but until you know.....
I will be waiting here, just being.
Tuck me into "that" blanket. Green eggs and ham. Goodnight lover.
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