So yesterday I was up all night on the phone with a close friend of mine and I was telling her about how hard it’s been for me to stop trying to understand that look you always carry when our eyes meet.
I wonder how you’d feel if you know how confusing you are to me. Sometimes you confuse me to the extent that I’m confused at why in hell do you cross my mind to begin with.
So when I see you again, don’t act like you’re my friend. We’re not friends. Friends don’t look at each other the way we do. You sir, you give me a severe heart confusion.
I am not -hear the NOT in my tone- going to pick myself off the ground to have you knock me down again. I can’t.
You could be scared; afraid that I puffed out of thin air to come and disrupt that little perfect life that you managed to create. I wonder if I confuse you too.
They say that most men are from Mars, but you, as far as I can tell, you come from a very distant galaxy that I’ve never heard of.
All I know is that with you, I’m comfortable. With you, I’m comfortably confused.