To you, who makes me obssessed like a fcking psycho.

I haven’t met him yet

But I already know the weight of his presence.

The idea of him moves through me like a song I can’t stop humming.

He exists in fragments:

A name, a voice I’ve never heard,

A silhouette that keeps me awake.

I build him piece by piece ;

His laughter, his scent,

The warmth of his hand that I’ve never held.

And the more I invent,

The more real he becomes.

He doesn’t know it yet,

But he’s already feeding me ;

Each thought, each trace,

A spark to keep my obsession breathing.

I don’t fall in love; I fixate.

I orbit. I study.

And if he ever starves me of attention,

I’ll find another gravity to drown in.

That’s how I work :

by obsession.

So even now,

Before the first glance,

Before the first word :

The boy is mine.

Linthong