Dear You
Dear You,
I'm just writing you this letter, to tell you something very important. Whenever you are around, I get this odd feeling in my belly. As if I'm doing loopings on a rollercoaster. Moreover, I find it hard to keep my eyes off you. It's as if they are glued to you. And I notice every little motion of your body. The way you try and hide your fingers, when you gesticulate and I think it's a pity, I can't see all of your hand. Or the way you're nose cringes a little when your glasses are a little askew and I have to bite my tongue not to squeel at that sight. Or the way your eyelashes flutter, when you doze off without noticing and I don't dare to reach out and touch them, too worried I might disturb your sleep. Whenever I see those little things, I can't help but smile and feel like the happiest dude alive.
And there is more, I want to tell you.
Do you know, how you look at me, when you want a kiss, or just a hug from me? Do you actually know what your look is doing to me!? Well, I do. You look so goddamn irressistable in those moments. I feel torn between ravaging you right there, right then and just doing nothing, just to tease you and enjoy that adorable look you're giving me. And when I eventually give in, I feel like I've lost and I couldn't care less, because the satisfied look you're giving me after you got your kiss is a million times more irresistable, than the one before. And I start to doubt myself, because I still want to ravage you but I don't want to destroy that adorable look of yours.
Still there's more.
Can you remember all those times, you tell me that you're missing me and that you can't wait to see me again? Do you know how hard it is, to play the patient role, telling you, that we'll meet again soon? Do you know, how hard it is for me, not to just screw it all, screw my job, screw my obligations, screw my responsibilities and just jump on the next train right to you? Just so you won't have to miss me anymore, just so I won't fucking miss you so much.
I'm not finished, yet.
Do you know, what happens, after you meet me? Do you know, how I walk back home, after I saw you to the train back to your home, like I really am a freaking zombie, hollow, aimless, dead? Do You know, how hard it is for me, not to just grab you, before you step on that motherfucking train and drag you back home and lock you up and never let you go again? I always wonder how I keep my cool in those moments, how I can let you go despite how hard I want to beg you not to leave me. But I do. And then I walk home and my apartement has little traces of you all over: The slight dent in my plush carpet, where you sit, just thirty minutes ago, the dirty dishes, from our last meal together, the towel on my towel rack, which is still a little damp from when you dried your hands. And then I have to dig my nails into the door, to prevent me from running back to the train station. I need to do someting, anything to prevent me from driving right after you.
Just one more thing.
What I'm actually trying to say, is that whenever I tell you, that I love you, I really mean it. And man, if I could I would tell you so much more, than just thse three words. But whenever I see you, I talk to you, whenever I want to fucking tell you about all the feelings I have for you, words suddenly fail me and all I could say is: I love you. Then I want to hit myself and I inwardly yell at myself, how I can be such a cheesy douchebag, instead of just spitting my heart out to you. And then I think, maybe it's good. Maybe those three words are enough. At least they are way better, than wasting our precious time together, by talking on and on about how much I'm in love with you. Still, I just wanted to tell you all this at least once. So, whenever you think I'm using those three words one time too often, just re-read this letter and you will know, what I really wanted to say.
Sincerly yours,
Me
