I love every single detail of this knot in my chest, pumping hot and cold blood that feels and almost tastes like chocolate just because of the melting feeling I get when I'm with you and/or thinking about you. I love how I wish I was strong enough to flip a dinner table over and jump your lovely (and ridiculously hot) bones right there and then, not minding the "decent" families and "regular" couples eating tacos and drinking virgin margaritas around us, clueless as to how to react to our hand-holding over the table. I love it how you make me feel like a teenager all over again, listening to Katy Perry songs about dreams and texting like crazy all day long just to talk about everything and nothing at all. I love how my entire existence rattles and shakes as you pull me towards you for our first and totally knee-weakening kiss as we wait for our cars outside and the whole world falls apart around us as people stare and whisper - and I'm really not one to care. I am SO fucking proud to be just standing there next to you and all I can do is indulge on the feeling of your insanely sexy body molded to mine under the stars of an extremely promising night sky.
And hey, don't think I don't know of all the... complications involved. I do. Very well. Too well. But just like I'm willing to stop being such an impatient brat for you, I'm willing to take a chance. On you.
Fuck.
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1 comment:
that sounds sickeningly, wonderfully, destructively, beautiful:) I love how visual you make feelings, that's a pretty hard thing to do sometimes.
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