You say I think about you too much.

Fine.

I’ll stop.

But first, bid the stars to extinguish their light.

Entreat the earth to still its quaking heart.

Compel the mountain streams to halt their cascading.

Gather all the birds, and clip their wings so they may never again soar on high.

Undo the way you reached for me in the dark,

Unravel the memory of our hands entwined,

And scour my soul to erase the twinkle from your eye.

Only then—perhaps—will I stop.