A Letter Of A (Slightly Crazy) Fangirl

Hi. You don't know me.
My name. My face.
I know you.
Well, what you show of you.
This is too forward.
I probably really am no lady.
You're from the land of the Queen
And my country only produces great Beauty Queens.

Sir, it is you in my dreams.
When I close my eyes
I see your green ones.
They remind of better days.
Of sunlit meadows and wildflowers
And golden eyes, and forever.
That crooked smile that makes my thoughts run for miles
From my mind to my fingertips...
Maybe further below from my hips.
I am ashamed while having no shame.

I am just one of the millions.
I am nothing special.
This is nothing special.
And a good track record of rationality
Is something I can't take pride in at this point.
So I write the irrational hurt
Of seeing her. Knowing her.

My father was right.
I am too invested.
My mother finds humor in it and sends me to tears.
An additional reason to my lack of sleep and to pop more pills.
She doesn't know.

But the girl continues to sing her peculiar songs, sways to them.
Not many like her for you.
Does it matter?
You are with her.
And I imagine your fingers on the piano keys, guitars strings,
Your deep voice when you laugh, when you sing.
Bloody accent.
It'll be the death of me.

This is crazy, even for me.
Do you believe me?
I was never one of the ultra-crazy fangirls.
I just love you.
Or just what you represent.
My innocence...
Five years that have gone...
I am a young woman...
One day I'll fall in love...
Be what I'm meant to be...
Have forever.
You remind me of better days.
Maybe the best.

I am happy for you.
Even if you'll never know me.
One day, I wish, I'll be happy, too.