You still do that thing you do. I really shouldn't let you. I should have some common decency, enough to not add gasoline to the flame. And then you go and make that eye contact. And my stomach sinks. Fuuuck. I'm screwed, huh? Damn you. I'd really love to be alone with you. Just so I could know what it feels like again. We are rarely alone. I don't even know if we'd talk. I bet we wouldn't. You'd look down and ever so often, glance up and lock eyes with me for just long enough. And when you do, I am frozen. The world kind of melts away and I get this tunnelvision and all I see is your eyes. And then it's gone as quick as it came. And I obsess over it. I analyze everything. Most likely I over analyze. Maybe this entire thing is over speculation. My bored mind creating something that isn't there for entertainment. Survival. To survive I must always have a constant feeling of change. Newness. So here you come along and instantly I'm pretty positive you are going to be trouble all over again.
Here's to hoping, love.
L. VonD
