A Poem

As I stand on my window
Pressing my knees against the wall
Can you see my cheeks, all glowing, fevery
Looking out to you, dear stranger
There are no stars in the sky
Only the street lamps, shining brightly, too bright
It hurts to look at you
To love you, it is hell
To detest you, it is hell
And I am a willing prisoner.
I know you have heard these words before
I am picking up phrases from the air
If I were a magician, I would swish my hand in the breeze
And open a bouquet of black roses...
I just need to know you think of me
Sometimes, sometimes, outside these two hours
Damn it...

~scio amo