God.
I'm so envious,
I'm so smitten.

You're too perfect.
"There's no such thing as perfect"
They don't know you.
And nor do I. It drives me mad.
You're so close and yet you shy away.
What are you playing at?
What do you want?
To tease me? Drive me forward, send me back?

Well, you're doing a fantastic job, sweetheart.
You've got me so confused by that
one-second, over-the-shoulder, catch-me-if-you-can
seductive smile that has all the wrong words written
between the lines of innocence.
And you don't even mean to do it.

Maddening, how in one year you've
driven me to adore you for being what I never could,
and to hate you, to desire you, to burn for you because you're perfect.
Please let us see each other soon, or
so help me God,
I'll be driven insane.

We'll lick ice cream, sweating in the deadly proximity of a
melting chocolate machine.
Come on, it's summer,
Take off your clothes, jump into a pool with me.
I'll try not to stare when you get out to use the bathroom.

We're perfect, love, just try me out.
I'll be here waiting.
You have my number.
Call me.