You are the midnight moon.
I am an evening star,
one of many.
I slowly glide towards your orbit
but am scared of being too close.
I stay where I am,
hoping you'll look my way.

I want to be beautiful
for you.
I want to be eloquant
around you.
I cut my hair
and dyed it black,
hoping you'll notice
and take another look.

I want to stop looking away,
afraid,
when our eyes meet.
I want to slide my hand into yours
and clandestinely pull back
if people look our way.
I want to have a reason
to clean my room.

When we must discuss
I want to be relevent
and when you ask for something
I want to give you more than you request.
All these fantasies
of curling together
watching T.V.,
I want to make into my reality.

I want to learn how to
apply black eyeliner.
I want to lose my insecurities
and general baggage.
I want to fall asleep on your shoulder.
I want to stop thinking of ways
to give you hints of my affections.

I want to be yours.