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Obsessed

I want someone to be obsessed with me.

With the way I say a certain word.

With the way I put emotions in words.

With the way I get involved in books.

With the way I keep thinking about something someone said some years ago.

With the way I cannot keep my hair tied up in a bun because they’re too silkily wild to be tamed.

With the way I need my tea in the morning with the right amount of sugar and milk.

With the way I get inspired from every little thing done by anyone.

With the way I find muses for my poetry at random places unknowingly.

With the way I get obsessed.

To music, art and artists.

To muses, clouds and evenings.

To you, your name, your voice.

To everything I know about you.

To everything I don’t know about you.

 
 
 

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