I saw it written on a tee-shirt.  I ought to have bought it and worn it.

I don’t want to know if your song is about me–
or if it’s something that I did yesterday.
I don’t want to know if I’ve been your muse
or if your feelings are still the same.

Uncomfortable was the wrong word. 
Complicated.

I don’t want to mess things up
more than I already do.
Using words that I shouldn’t.
There’s so much more I want to say.

Things just come out crooked
despite it all seeming straight
up in my head
you’re with me always–
my analysis, spell check, and thesaurus–
but there’s no synonym for you.

Uncomfortable–I got it all wrong.
That’s what happens when it feels right.
I was afraid of messing this up
because you’ve been all
I’ve ever had that’s lasted.

You’re invaluable.
Without you here, there’s more room
to spread my wings, I can kick out
when I’m sleeping, without
wondering if I’ve hurt you.

You’re the only one who gets me to
write in stanzas.  You keep me
honest with myself.  I strive to
be better when you’re in my life.