New Feelings
I want to make a sandwich; a you/me sandwich.
And I can’t tell you, because, you know, it might get wierd.
Maybe I can try to forget your face, your pellucid, ubiquitous face.
Give yourself to me.
All of your sweet-ass self.
You be the linguica, me the mayo.
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3 comments:
It's the 2 S's I dig:
Subtlety and Simpsons.
My high school self would have crushed on you then become your friend because I didn't know how to handle actually asking you out and then watched as you dated other guys who never treated you as good as I would have and then died inside before finally building up enough courage to ask you out but we're too good friends and that would ruin things, you know? or maybe just staying quiet and pretending that every time we hung out it was a "date" that no one but me knew about.
Fucking high school.
Fucking goddamn high school.
Or you just would have made a love sandwich with Tucksy.
Remind me to show you a picture when you come over later...
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