Think you.

I like you.

I love you.

I think you.

Some may say I should come right out,

Remove think and just say it.

We’ll think is the best I can give,

(Mainly because I do it all the time.)

I overthink situations that shouldn’t be overthought.

Like if the world were to end tomorrow

Did what I wear today make me look like a bad-ass?

Thinking is me.

I assess the situations at hand

To bring better clarification into my eyes,

And I can’t deny the fact that every time I try

            To see things simply

            My mind grows restless.

Every time I try to see you simply

An eruption of possibility seeps into my memory.

But instead of just telling you how I feel

I write poems

And think.

I think about what it would be like to grow so old

            That our bones will sound like rice crispes.

I think of what our mid-life crisis will end up like.

            My unreasonable sports car compensation

            And your dreams to stay young and beautiful.

            Even though you always are, and always will be.

I think about what you think of me,

            Because I try to sell truth,

            But if you don’t believe,

            Then clearly I’m not throwing the pitch right.

I think that with every thought,

Thinking makes me think I’m overthinking thinking.

And in this mess of useless alliteration

I realized I didn’t love you, since I don’t do that as nearly often.

I think you.NOT ORIginal POET