What Happens when I let my Brain Throw Up Words

The way I feel for you

I don’t want to have sex with you. You’re good looking and all but I’m not attracted to you. Not like that.

I’m attracted to you in a way that makes me want to explain myself to you and then apologize for doing so. I’m attracted to you in a way that makes listening to you complain about a bad grade the best part of my day.

I’m attracted to you in a way that makes me hate you for being so attractive.

You’re so attractive that I can feel you walk into a lecture hall of 200 people. That’s how attractive you are.

You’re so attractive that I’m scared of not liking something you create, because I know that your creation is a part of you and I could never not like you.

I’m attracted to the way you talk and the way you are when you’re quiet.

I’m attracted to the look you give me when you think I’m being stupid.

I’m attracted to the way you look at me when I’m talking.

I’m attracted to you when I’m not with you. I’m never not attracted to you. 

I want to take you to a gravestone and tell you how I love a man I never knew. You’re so attractive when you’re interested in what I say, or when you are pretending to be interested.

I am so attracted to you that I’d stay up with you all night to watch a meteor show and then go and write a French exam. I’m so attracted to you that I wouldn’t regret my choice to do so.

You’re attractive enough that I hang on every word you say, every message you send and every smile you give.

You’re attractive enough that I keep a fortune you give me in my phone case.

You’re attractive enough that I’d keep any promise I made to you.

You’re attractive enough that I’d fall in love with you.

If only I’d let myself.