stop it therapy

My heart is a hallway and without permission, you stand there--you're wearing neon and you have a packet of pink slips and punishments to slide to me when I think about you too much.
My Circadian Rhythm is all out-of-wack because you tell me when to wake and when to sleep and you choose if I'm happy or not.
My crush on you only crushes my all-too-eager soul.


So for the good of both you and me:

please stop

(everything you do)

(it's just so pretty)