JUMPING ON OPRAH’S COUCH
You are my worst nightmare and my best dream wrapped up in the same being.
Like animals when you can’t whether they’re fucking or fighting.
Like US peacekeeping.
Like making cheese (you know the process)
You are my worst nightmare and my best dream.
And you swept me off my feet.
Ass over elbows if only in my sleep-state wake to find the feeling was only one sided
‘Cause you say, it’s a matter of bad timing, but I say it’s only a matter of time.
‘Cause you got me waltz-beat, 1-2-3- weak in the knees.
Got hearts popping out my eyeballs, swallowing lumps in my throat.
Didn’t you know? I hollowed out my stomach to make room for these butterflies
And I’m not the kind of guy to skip a meal
So you know what I mean? You’re my worst nightmare and my best dream.
You make me feel like a million bucks and like I ain’t got no sense in the same heartbeat.
You make me fucking insane
I make you bored.
And I know it’s immature but I want to show up at your doorstep
with a picnic on my bike.
Cut your apprehension into palatable bites.
I want to spend the night.
I want to spend the night with you.
Because you make me desperate.
Me? Hey, you could take it or leave it.
And I don’t even care.
I’ve got such a school girl crush you could steal my lunch money
and I’d still invite you to my birthday swim party.
Still pass you in notes in classes asking you to check boxes.
X in yes marks the spot where my heart is.
So I’m crossing my fingers and dotting my I’s….
You’re a smart ass woman and I think that’s sexy,
I get ooey-gooey each time you text me.
And I’m dyslexic with our relationship.
Only been on one date and I’m already naming our kids.
Making down payments on white picket fences.
Cause it’s not rocket science,
I’m jumping on Oprah’s couch with just the hopes that you’ll call me.
Knocking down my walls, hoping they don’t fall in on me.
Letting down my guard hoping you’ll take a shot at me.
Because you make me thirsty.
You’re a tall glass of water that goes down easy
and I’m a short man with disordered eating.
Resorting to scheming.
Hoping when you’re sleeping you’re dreaming what I’m thinking.
And wake believing in poetry.
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