It feels like a sin.
To look into those round eyes that I have a hard time resisting. To go stiff whenever we have no other choice but to be near each other. To secretly enjoy the distant silence between us. To wish that I had more time for you to tell me about your book. To be brave enough to say ‘hi’ and not shiver when you told me so. To smile because of you. To wonder about you from time to time. And to write about you.
It’s been too long, the tip of my tongue has gone numb. You have flustered me with your existence alone, that it feels like I have taken a bite of the forbidden fruit to even think about you. You’re like temptation I can’t resist, and I can’t wrap the reason around my head as my thoughts envelope in entropy.
However, here I am confessing this disaster. ‘Cause if what I feel is truly a sin, I hope you have also sinned.
