If you read my writing and my mind
You’d think I’ve met love.
You’d think I know it inside and out
That I’d recognize it in darkness blindfolded and hands behind my back.
That I would know it’s scent
And would know what seeks to pass for it.
You’d think I know love.
But love and I have never met.
Love and I don’t yet exist on the same plane
Love hasn’t heard of me
I’m a fangirl
Maybe love’ll sign my hand
Maybe love’ll greet my outstretched arm
Maybe love’ll single me out and hold me on stage.
Maybe love’ll turn to the other side and pass me by
Maybe love’ll make a fool of me
I talk of love like love told me it’s life story
Like I haven’t mistaken a farce for it’s face
Like I know love.
But love and I haven’t really met.
I’m a fangirl
Love’s fangirl.
MUSE OF TRISh 