So tell me,
what’s the name of the game?
These sessions
have been nothing but rewarding,
falling in love
once a week
with you.
Your appointments
are the sunshine
on my weather app,
better than all my happy pills combined.
Your blonde, boyish face,
tall with ocean eyes like Armie Hammer,
yet a gentleman like Keanu Reeves.
I feel like a princess,
naked on that couch,
as you paint me with your eyes.
You smile
when I smile with insecurity.
You laugh
when I say something foolish.
You listen
when I cry about my pain.
You speak with the softest voice
saying just the right words.
I never asked for a gorgeous doctor like you,
distracting me from my anxiety,
or perhaps making it worse.
I see the way you look at my hands,
as if you want to touch them.
And I notice there's no ring on your finger,
as I would have been jealous of her.
If you were gay,
I would be devastated,
being friends
is not enough for me.
So take my hands
and leave this room with me,
far from this cruel world,
coating me in a happily ever after…

Though
I’m glad you’re not telepathic,
or I might lose you,
or your license…

So say it,
does this mean anything to you?
You’re my favorite company
because I have none,
since trust issues moved in.
My past has been cruel,
isolating me from the world,
but with you,
I'd lock this room forever.
I never want to believe
you have as much fun with your other patients.
But as you’re healing me,
I dread our final session.

So let me ask:
Would you remember me and my silly life?
Would you think of me when another patient laughs at their own joke?
Would that very same pen remind you of the first time you touched my finger?
Would you wish it was me sitting in front of you?

And please, tell me:
Can you feel it the way I do?