#hhhhi

You’re so easy to please. I like to think I’m enamored by the little things in people, their smiles, their little actions of love. No one’s exactly directly pointed out what I do before, or even said something so simple as car ride games were...cute.

Ridiculous. I feel like a child in love. This is bad, it’s new- it’s good. It’s so good. My throat constricts with worry when I think about telling you- you know, I’m sure, you know how I wish to hold you. Kiss you. Anywhere. I know you have said you don’t like mouth kisses, but perhaps the corner? Your nose? Eyelids? Would you smile if I kissed your forehead?

This is not infatuation. I have come to the final conclusion. I become so tied up in people being nice to me, sweet, that I think I’m falling. But, I actually am just interested in the positive, sweet attention on me.

Yours is...different. Not roaring flames of interest, my thoughts can be clear of you for moments at a time, not everything is about you. I’m not aching or bouncing or yearning- because you give me just enough. Each time. You laugh with me, joke with me, gods and your smile. Your little pictures.

Soft words, smitten, sweet, in love, adoring, butterflies, head spinning around, twitterpatted. New feelings, loving, slow, oh so slow. You’re so gentle and slow. Gods, no one has ever- not even. I just.

You’re so strange. What a strange being you are, I wonder. With fingers outstretched towards you and knowing you would hold them in return. What a delightful and solid feeling, how they grow and flutter. Like a storybook romance. 

How sad it is. That I have not found someone who makes me feel this way.

Oh how I love my little mossball. My sweetest of boys. With soft cheeks like mochi and a big smile that crinkles his nose. But even he did not take it slow with me, does not call my meaningless tasks ‘cute’. Does not seem to notice the heart I put into little things.

How odd, I think. But, perhaps my two hands may be held one day. A balance between my loves twisting into beautiful, vibrant colors.