I want to write out my thoughts
but you’re the only thing in my mind.
The way you’ve chiseled into my scull.
The way you’ve written your words onto my pages in my book.
Yet you doodle with no disregard to my story.
The way you move is admitted in my memory.
Evocative.
The way you sound, your voice constantly blatantly interrupting my thoughts.
like The way song dose when it is stuck in you...