I could have spared ourselves, whatever we were at the moment, just to check on later.
I don't know If I would have fallen for you; you were not that easy to read when mad.
I saw your madness, behind closed bars. And I have to admit to myself:
that's the first time you turned me on.
--
I'd write about you all day today.
I suddenly realized, I hadn't in a long time.
Maybe it's because you are too easy to reach right now, all pleased when I am sharing your same atmosphere.
I can sense you from afar, your eyes on me whenever I turn to dim the lights of the room. (btw, you are the fucking lights. You glow like the fucking sun.)
Whenever I turn to block my thoughts on you. I can't hold onto your staring. It drives me to places I don't know, and I don't like it.
I don't like to not know, and I guess I'm still not ready to go there yet.
--
Whenever I can, I get a little loan from you, without you noticing.
Sometimes it's a smile, others a tight embrace.
(why is it so hard to let go? I want to ask you always, but I'm a coward)
Then, I indulge on my little treasure. I get giddy, stupid, and emotional replaying the moments in my head.
I don't like being emotional, because it's stupid.
You are stupid. Too stupid for my book.
..but you're still in it, and I don't feel that surprised, not even right now writing it down.
--
Sweetheart, is it just me, or does your smirk always get wider when I talk about sparks?
I notice every little detail from you, you know. It would be a shame not to. You and your mannerisms are fascinating.
But this custom feels new.. these smirks are something else.
The room feels small, and for a whole minute I don't feel like breathing anymore.
We overstepped, I can sense it. We have to hold back, or the hidden emotions in my words will slip and cause a fire; I do not want that.
I like to keep some stuff to myself. Even if some are shared with you. They are not yours to keep. I don't want to feel that exposed ever.
I guess you observe me quite well too, because you stare, mouth shut, absorbing my nervousness as if I was a fucking glass of water and you are the thirstiest being on earth.
You notice.
You wink at me, and your gaze feels like it's devouring me entirely, from head to toe. There's nowhere to run now.
I curse, and look away.
--
You drive my senses to the moon and back, and I hate you a little for it.
It's been a while.. I kind of missed writting you, writting your details, your obviousness.
It's amusing, yet enticing.
It drives me mad, I can already feel myself firing up for nothing.
It's not something I'm actually fond of... oversharing.
But-
No.
It's nothing... but it's something nonetheless.
I groan, again.