Here’s the thing: You are slowly destroying me.
I’ve been trying for weeks to forget you. I’ve been kissing other boys and texting other girls and going to acting classes and psychology seminars and boxing lessons and I have been staying out partying and buckling down studying and waking up early to meditate and collect myself and b r e a t h e.
I have been brunching and lunching and reaching and striving to grow my own life and to starve your memory off. I have been trying to sweat you out, to sleep you off, to run your memory clean from my system but it’s becoming steadily clearer that you’re not an easy concept to get rid of.
Here’s the thing: I cannot get you off my mind.
Here’s the problem: I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.
I’ve always been a slave to obsession and there’s nothing that gets my blood rushing quite like the thought of your body.
Your smile stops me dead in my tracks. Your touch make me forget how to breathe.
Call it lust, call it obsession, call it the next passing infatuation that I will laugh off several years down the line, but everything pales in comparison to the thought of your lips upon mine.
When I picture us together, the world stops.
When I think about your hands on my body, the earth takes a quick break from turning and the sun takes a moment off from burning and the tides cease from rising and falling for an instant to honor your existence.
When I think about you and I together, my vital signs threaten to disintegrate, my blood rages war upon my senses.
When I think about you and I together, the only conclusion I can come to is that the entire solar system will remain just a little off-kilter, for as long as your lips aren’t on mine.
And when you look at it like that, who are you and I to stand in the way of our galaxy?
I think we have to take one for the team here.
Before the world stops. Before my heart stalls. Before our bodies decompose back into ashes,
I think that you are going to have to kiss me.