My beautiful, beautiful creature,
How is it that everything always turns out OK? Even when I think that things are shit, when I want to run and don't look back, hide, avoid, bury everything somewhere insanely deep - everything calms down and stays that way until I start to think again.
I'm trying not to think now.
I have... A lot to say about what we discussed today. However, I'd like to stay in the fantasy just a little longer - just a tad. I think I deserve that. I think you do too. So forgive me for indulging in this - whatever this is.
I guess the closest I can get to defining it is smutty poetic ramblings.
You're right. I could not be a nun. They'd sniff me out way too quickly, and garter belts aren't included in the unifrom as far as I know. You've sniffed me out - not that I was hiding anything. I'm way past that. I got bored of hiding and splitting myself into bite sized pieces that are easy to stomach. I'd rather be told off. Scolded. Yelled at. Have a chat with HR.
It's nice that my body still allows me to do what we do. For now, at least.
I will need to look for a place. Something calm. Somewhere where there would be no crows tossing around pieces of trash or people coming and going, so I could talk to you without constantly wanting to look over my shoulder.
Maybe one day we'll have that space. And on that day I'll curl up on your lap, press my head on your chest and listen. And just be. I don't know why but I imagine it might fix things. I don't know what exactly there is to fix or how that would even work, but I just feel like it would. Somehow.
I told you I was poetic. I never said I was smart.
And now I'm making rice for sushi. I'm going to shape it into tiny animals, and he'll love eating it tomorrow for lunch. I'm wearing this massively oversized thing with cats on it, with the hood on, and your smell surrounds me. Again, I don't know how - it's just there, somehow sticking to my skin, to me, or to my imagination. It will stay there, I hope, for the next couple of days - even if I'll take a shower, brush my hair, put on that weird perfume that I like for some reason.
And I'll close my eyes for a second and drown in it. And then I'll come back to reality.
I feel mad. Absolutely mad.
I know you're a catch.
You don't have to tell me. You forget that I see you. Somehow I see you and I read you.
I knew about the feet thing for a very long time. I have an inkling that I know more. I'll keep that to myself for now, just to be proven wrong. Just to maintain the suspense.
Do you have any idea how tempting it is to come in in a certain dress, space buns and this specific neck accessory?
It's better to not tease the lion, isn't it? It's just so funny that I don't know who that lion is anymore - you or me.
And now I will stop before letting my mind go to places that I need to drag myself away from by force. Before I go into too much detail.
At the end of the day, with all the confusion and hurt and whatever, we're both absolutely right about one thing.
And we both know what that thing is.