I want you. God how I want you.. but given how much older you are and how in awe I am of you I'm too afraid to tell you. And in my imperfect and shoot-myself-in-the-foot sort of way, my stubborn dignity dictates that I treat you with aloofness and standoffish coolness because if I didn't, the electricity shooting from every inch of my body whenever you're anywhere near me would give me away in a second. (God forbid if it hasn't already... that's a worrying thought..) If you only knew what I wanted to do to you. One night would be enough but I couldn't give you all the pleasure I wanted to if I had a thousand nights. I could spend the first week nibbling on your adorable earlobe alone.

But we're so different. I can't even begin to imagine a reality where I could approach you and the generation gap is only the beginning.. So I continue to drift around you in wide, somewhat concentric circles as I cultivate my sense of fake preoccupied obliviousness to just how ridiculously hot you are. —Shy Little Tomboy with the Curls