You tempt my heart with so many things. Namely, you. And whatever’s cooking in that head of yours. Could you really be so cruel that you wouldn’t recognize the friend we have in each other? Am I too high?

Your turn in this phase of adulthood, I’ve already reckoned it, too much that I don’t want to cry for fear of embarassment; in front of you, in front of me. When you tell me that you’ve run entirely out of groceries, I feel it HERE. Why don’t I save us the trouble and blind myself in the Biblical sense for the rest of my life.

I know you’re in there somewhere.

When you hugged me goodbye, did you notice how I took the time to hold you against me like that, how it lasted a little longer than when saying adios to your many, many guy friends. You are so beautiful, I am likely going to shred all dignity, starting with the skin. I’d sit through two large, bald Russians pulling every hair out of my body if it meant you, only you.

And will you even mention the story I slipped into your notebook? Or will I just disappear completely from the stronghold you don’t realize you are to me? That’s okay. Your mind was on looking for things to put on before finding yourself acceptable to leave that house.

The next time I come to you, I wonder what will happen.

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