I Think This Poem is Finally Done...

They're all telling me to speak up,

Say anything, let you know I'm here

Let you know what I feel... What I've felt

But I can't make them understand

That I can't even see your car nearby

Without getting butterflies... feeling happy

I can't make them see how every little thing

You've ever said, or done, or made me feel

Is in a notebook in my head

And I go over it, line-by-line, moment-by-moment

While I stare at the ceiling in the dark

Telling myself that I've fashioned mountains out of molehills

And they're all telling me to

Cast off, dive in, test the waters

But no matter how much I despise the metaphors

(Especially because I know you think they’re overdone)

I can't help but think it's too late

Because I'm already drowning in your eyes

So that when the darkness closes and sleep finally comes

I get to dwell, for a few hours each night

In the imaginary world where you know everything

You know how I feel, what I've always felt

And you do the little things I dream about...

Holding my hand, or waking me up in the morning

And they're all telling me to tell you,

Because nothing ventured is nothing gained

And you can't win if you don't play the game

But I can't make them understand that for now

It's enough to make believe I already won

Because when I dream, you never say we won't be together

Mostly, they don't understand that everything they say

All the advice they're giving me

Is nothing I haven't already told myself

Because I've tried a million times to stop analyzing,

Cease this pointless scrutinizing and dissection of old memories

And make new ones...