Dittany In Shattered Glass Clock Gears

Well shes not really my missy,
no not a miss, a month passed since first true kiss,
a frozen ensnare between two who know love, their lips -
touching...

I dont understand my new plan.
Except waiting feels like it never ends,
maybe i should get tipsy?
no need for a mail order bride,
but mail is the only way we'll use to say hi,
its supposedly a psychotic find.
oh yes, to the postoffice, a small fortress,
perhaps a citadel out in the fields of galore trees,
a murky woodlore, i'm so lost, so lonely,
sounds pathetic i know its dull you see,
but i cant help it, having to go to multiple church sermens the same day,
its still not helping enough the pain comes back to trickle in...
id prefer to wander in a woodland, but theres none, not a valley not a canyon,
just an empty land.

fields, emptiness, but inside my mind, i must try to be creative,
creative quirkiness and broil fiery fiendishness,
no dont worry not real fiendishness.
there is no missy, just my darling that loves me.

I'm not sure fidgeting or freaking out will help...
No please, fidget the bat looks interesting.....
i'm drowning...without her i'm not going through this again.