I need to write you in the most cliché words because running away from you always takes me back to you. Let me craft the idea of you like I'm portraying my favorite novel character. You'd be reading under a dim light, so tugged in your book I'd get jealous of the characters inside, they're so lucky to be flying freely inside your imagination while I'm only watching you from a two-meter space that kills me to get closer. I wish I could read with you to share the same thoughts (I wish we'd be one). I pretend to be busy with my book too but I find that every character reminds me of you, even if you're not really similar, they just invoke you in some mysterious ways. I flip through each page in a speck of a second while stealing a look at you from the corner of my eyes. I start to be so good at this you barely notice me. And I barely notice myself when you lean closer to the book and I melt as if you're drawing me in one of your characters too. You make me love books and the words inside them, because they talk about you. I know they do, they tell me that I love you, not as cliché as I write it, but in the warmest, deepest, calmest words I could ever read. I love you, like the books say it. And I'll find a better way to say it one day.
Written for you.
4th of Jan. 8:23 PM.
4th of Jan. 8:23 PM.
