XCLII.

These words are bound to carry the same intent as all of the other bumbling verses that I write about you. I still don't know what it is, but I've felt it since the first time I kissed your lips on that warm June night. I feel drunk when I'm with you, less of a loss of coherence, and more a lack of care for anything and everything around me, except you. And like I said, when i left your house tonight, all I could think about was how much I just wanted to turn around and be back with you. There's something careless in your touch, that despite my inhibitions and my insecurities and your naivety that keeps me coming back, and holding on and wanting.