Delulu is Best-lulu

Every sarcastic remark and light chuckle and gruff word has me falling deeper and deeper.

My mouth starts to salivate, I start to drool, my lips and tongue are quivering and loose around the words I want to say to him.

Tell me the intracicies of your soul. What do you like to do? Not just those little hobbies you do, but what does your soul call for? What does it respond to? What makes you blush and stammer? What makes you smile? What makes you feel loved like how you make me feel? 

What is your accustomed to? What words describe you best? Play 21 questions with me, each question allowing me to get closer and closer with who you are. I want to love more of you, not just the things so pitifully superficial and temporary.

What makes you angry? What frustrates you? What little things tick you off? What makes you quake and throw you into a cold sweat? I could talk and hold you through, like how you did to me with your words. Even if those things you said were  or were not with the objective of consoling and comforting and understanding, it left me feeling heard. Flustered. Grinning.

I love our lighthearted (or what I hope is mutually enjoyable) banters. I love it when you send me the perfect response to have me smiling, blushing, and laughing. You seem to do it so effortlessly. Even if it isn’t effortless maybe in truth, I love wha you do. I want more of you.

I want more to hold and touch of you.

I want to cradle your soul. Your heart.

I want to make it pound and make you blush.

I want to make you smile.

I want to make you look forward to me.

I’m ashamed to call what I feel for him love.

I’m ashamed to call my attachment to such superficial things about him love. 

It’s so much, yet so meaningless.

I’m ashamed that I love what I do not know.

The idea of him finally telling me want to love seems unnatainable now.

It’s been such a long time.

Debilitating thoughts plague me, an often one making me wonder if I seem little to him

What if he does not even see me as useful, nor pleasant, nor good?

As, just like Aristotle said, those three things is how one can be lovable.

His voice, his words, his attitude, his way of thinking makes me weak in the knees.