My shitty poetry diary

It's you

And it's you who I search for in crowded room now,
Someone who I could recognize in surplus of people just by the sound of your laughter or voice.
And it would echo through my mind until I'm back by your side.
And it's you who I run to now when tides are high.
'Cause without you, I feel cold, even in the heat of
July.
So what have to done to me?
'Cause I never want you to become someone I only steal glances at every now and then.