I sat outside your window and watched you for most of the night.
I was surprised you didn't see me; I mean I was there for quite some time. I clung to the branches of that mighty gargantuan oak outside your window like a child clings to the grim reaper when thrown from a plane. I peered, I leered, I enjoyed all you inadvertently gave me to cherish.

Do you remember when you got a call at 9:13 and no one answered? That was me. I wanted to see your lips move through the window. Your lips were full and they swelled and birthed more redness with each scream you let into the phone. Sometimes heavy breathing is a bo kay of compliments; I wish you could see that. If only you would have talked to yourself and sung in front of your mirror as I had envisioned I would not have had to dial like that, but I needed more.

Do you remember that call you got at 9:52 where you said, "Please stop this! I'll call the cops." Well that was me too. It's like I told you, we are a sitcom relationship that a writer couldn't even write.

Do you remember that call you got at 10:04 where someone hung up on you and you responded by turning your phone off? Well I didn't do that one. I know not to go too far, I'm just that great of a guy. I did wonder if someone else was watching you and was also grabbing glimpses of you like I was so I left the tree. I searched around your house inspecting each bush and fired cherry bombs into all the trees hoping to smoke out any others that could come between us. You were safe so I went home myself. I mean you were asleep by that time and I've seen you sleep before, last night was about watching you unwind, your muscles loosen, your mind forget the day, and to watch your smiles be about yourself rather than in response to others.

I'll see you in study hall.