star shine

My mushy, wormy, good-for-nothing brain.

It sits sheltered in a cavern so dank.

Between each wrinkle is a disembodied memory, fragmented and lost.

Rotten is each past happy thought.

Then there you are.

Bubbles across my screen.

Your screen name.

And I

So wrought up over nothing.

And yet everything.

My mushy, wormy, good-for-nothing brain.

Suddenly good for something.

Good for coming up with compliments and different ways to say “I love you”.

Sitting sheltered with light pouring in from none other than you.

Between each wrinkle now holds sweet nothings you have said to me.

Rotten is a word I do not know.

There you are.

In love with me in a way I have not felt since an immature young teen.

Messages throughout the day showing affection and attention, the whole shebang.

And I

So wrought up over you.

My everything.