The curse to only like the smell in between your clavicle and your neck. The curse to love the heated oil effect of our skins against each other. The curse to feel nervous when a certain what's up blimps. The curse to get excited sharing an elevator ride together, even if it's for just one floor. The curse to want to know your life, even if it's built around a distant universe. The curse to see a perfect match in this total lack of cohesiveness. The curse to read more than I should into your deep colored eyes. The curse to love your smile even if it's meant to laugh at me. The curse to want to dive forever in your immatureness. The curse to never have spent a night together although there were many nights. The curse to want to be protected. The curse to know that you may never realize how I really feel.
The curse to get excited you might feel the same and then realize you maybe, most probably, don't.
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