I like you.
Like, I mean I “like” like you.
Like the kind of way that makes me feel like a kid on the playground again.
Like, it’s hard to focus on anything else when you speak, like there’s a tunnel vision that extends to every sense.
It’s like I can only see your face,
only hear your voice,
only smell the hint of that perfume,
only feel your hand graze mine,
only taste the blood from biting my lip too hard while lost in thoughts of you.
When you speak, it’s like everything falls away, only to come rushing back with your laugh. It’s disorienting, a reminder that the world didn’t stop existing just because you were speaking. It’s like, so loud.
It’s so fucking stupid, but I almost want you to stop talking
or at least slow down like a bit, so that we don’t run out of things to talk about.
I’m not sure I could ever run out of things to talk to you about, but if that’s going to happen someday
At least I can prolong it for like, a little while longer.