"I wish I wasn't obsessed with words,"
He says.
"Oh, me too!
… except, not really,"
I reply.
"You see, I have kinda, sorta, possibly, maybe,
(Completely and so very utterly)
Developed this odd sort of weird little “thing” for words.
Words, for me, are kinda like that guy that drives you up the walls -
You’re crazy about him.
He’s in every thought that creeps into your mind.
Every move he makes,
You want to pop into your mouth
And roll around for a bit,
Because you know it must taste somethin’ delicious.
But, you can’t **** on it too hard,
Because you want it to melt
So, so very slowly,
As to not disappear too quickly.
He’s that guy that does you somethin’ silly!
Makes you smile so hard
And do things with your body
That make absolutely no sense -
But, only because he makes you feel so good
That you haven’t a danglin' clue
On what to do with yourself.
He’s that guy that makes you,
Every once in awhile,
Lose sight of things important.
That guy that’s not altogether good for you,
But, you simply can not get enough.
--
So, I mean, yeah.
Sometimes, logic says,
*If you’d just break up with words,
You could get a whole bunch more of your junk done,
Rather than dwelling on every single thing he does.*
But, my heart,
Trusting my logic,
Replies, adamantly, saying,
Yah - but, I don’t think I can.