Obsessed

I don’t like what they call me,

“Obsessed”.

So frivolous a word can hardly explain
All your profile pictures saved in my phone,
All the hoardes of unanswered texts
Nursing feeble hopes,
The reeking desperation in the calls
Made to your friends,
Searching for traces of me in your Facebook posts
For days on end.
Liking all of your photos on Instagram,
Just to make sure you notice me,
And before I realise, I’ve been “blocked”
Oh – that’s a word I’ve come to hate lately!

When my online voyages fail
To carry me to my destination,
The physical world awaits the commencement
Of my second test of relentless patience.
All those hours of waiting outside your house,
Do not, and will never, bother me
If it means I will get to glance upon your face,
For a minute, or two, or three.
My mama says “You’re a gem, darling,
“That dumb boy don’t deserve you”
I wish she could peep inside my heart,
She’d call me “obsessed” too.

Not a new thing is this, I’ve been burning with desire for years,
Ever since my mind can recall
Confessing my secrets to him, however, is a forbidden risk,
I know a heartbreak would be my Heaven’s call.
So now that you know what an incapacitating  intoxication
Is this love that I really possess;
Tell me, can the storms of my heart’s yearning
And this reverential adoration,
Be trivialised by the word “obsessed”?