i fear for spring.

words welling up and vomited out.

is it obsession when it comes to the point you're all i think about, when you're all i talk about to everyone, or when your selfies start to flutter my heart ?

over time, i've realised i haven't grown impatient but instead accepting that all my thoughts are a false reality, something i didn't want to believe.

something i could only dream to happen, a wish, at the mercy of you. oh cherry, the things you do to me �"even when you're doing nothing�" kills me.