a sunday night 9:16pm
I am writing this as you drone on about the worst things in adulthood.
I hope you don't find it odd.
But you seem satisfied with the small hums of encouragement I give you. To show you that I'm still listening.
You're a wonderful distraction. To everything stressful and toxic in the present.
Sometimes I wonder if you're even real, sometimes it hurts me to even compare you to a distraction.
Why do I feel so strongly for you already.
This has never occurred to me.
Not with my first nor my last.
They all simply fall into irrelevance beside you.
Nothing can compare nor compete, or sway you off your feet.
It may just be because of how wise you speak.
I've always wanted someone like that.
Who could think like me.
Then there's you.
Sultry in the way you choose your words in case it may cause harm. It'd be impossible for you to hurt me in any way.
I sound really foolish.
But I don't think I've ever felt this way.
You just asked of me,
"And you? You're awfully quiet."
Instant flush.
"Never really liked talking."
Now you're awfully quiet.
"So have I, until I met you."
You're a man of little words, focused more on the action.
If shows with the way you decided to call me first, and how greedy you are to see my face on your screen.
Always taunting and teasing.
"I called you to see your pretty face not a dark screen, come back please."
He calls for me again, I'll have to cut this short.
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