The Obsession I Never Told Her

Little does she know,

every message she sent,

silenced the voices in my head.

Life is a repetitive cycle-

Did I turn the light off? Yes.

Did I shut the door? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

Did I-

But the day I met her,

my thoughts blurred.

Did I tell her goodnight? Yes.

Did I tell her I loved her? Yes.

Did I tell her she was pretty? Yes.

Did I-

We'd be in class,

and instead of counting the numbers on the screen,

over and over,

the only thing I could think about,

was the way her glasses rested on her face.

On her face,

on her face,

on her-

Every night,

we'd say goodnight,

sleep tight, but it became a ritual,

something critical.

One night she told me she had to go,

and my thoughts spiraled out of control.

Because I couldn’t tell her goodnight.

Tell her goodnight,

tell her goodnight,

tell her-

I couldn't tell her this,

it's not her fault,

the thoughts in my head aren't her assault.

But I’m stuck with this feeling,

like a weight on my chest,

like the world is crushing me,

like I’ll never rest.

Without her goodnight,

I couldn’t sleep.

So I'd lie in bed,

thinking about her smile,

on repeat,

because it was my only relief.

It was the way she never showed her teeth,

but I always looked beneath.

She never liked her smile-

maybe she would if she knew,

it made me calm all the while.

When she talked,

I wasn’t worried about the number of cracks in the sidewalk,

or about turning the lights on and off,

on and off,

on and off,

on and-

twelve times each night,

because my only thought was to make her mine.

But she had to go-

it was out of our control.

So I went back to the start,

counting every part.

Did I turn the light off? Yes.

Did I shut the door? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

Did I tell her goodnight?

Did I tell her?

Did I-