a day with me, can't go without the talks of my muse of course
To be the one trying to take the lead yet fall into a messed up bundle of a soul for the whole of the conversation, while the other one just looks in your eyes with those serene eyes and talks about the most flirtiest (that is, anything he says) topics, who might as well be hyperaware of what effect they are having, is one of the most devilish things to feel. A beetroot blush would suffice, but maybe I was just meant to be beetroot. For all my attempts of making him 'short circuit' have failed, yet I long with the hope of 'one day', I am not great at flirting with him, as you can confer. Saying that 'writing is my way of flirting', has become the saving sword for me. Little does a lover, a weird one at that, know about the sword being double edged. Meaning, what do I do when I can't figure what to write!? Lucky me, he is more than enough sweet to interpret my mumblings of 'i miss youuu' and kissing desperation *cough* , as little love expressions. ...