It’s hard to define without being silly, or what’s the word? clichéd, what I am feeling about you in any given moment.
My body’s response to thoughts of you is an invasion of anything I ever thought would happen, ever, again. Or for the first time, since trust me this is awesome, amazing, makes me giddy, smile all over on the inside kind of stuff.
Your face…I want to see it, eyes looking at me, sometimes soft and sometimes smiling. I like what that feels like, your eyes looking into mine. Oh these aren’t butterflies, these are belly flops over here, happening without my permission.
I am completely infatuated. Your mind is smart, full of knowledge and history and things I like to hear about, like what kind of trees are blooming. I like your stories of world wars and politics, though your preference differs from what I’ve known.
I like the way your back looks when I’m sitting behind you, seeming to call my fingers to stroke softly. Your silver hair held by the cap that shades your eyes and the freckles I know are there because I saw them above your shirt one evening! I like the way you take your glasses off and tilt your head down to read things, sometimes.
You tease me and there’s that smile in your eyes. When you hold me in a hug, and you smell so intoxicatingly wonderful, I don’t want to let go; I just want to hold you.
I like this getting to know you.
Can you see it? I’m so into you.
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