You make it so fucking hard to want anyone who’s not you.
You make my heart ache and flutter and twist and turn and shit.
You make my brain race and jump hurdles and shit.
You make my lips crave your skin every single time that I see it.
You make my tongue lust and long for the inside… for your insides..
And my insides long to be apart of yours.
Long to be apart of you.
You make me want you like mad..
And all that I ever hope is that you want me back.
“So avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not ‘very’ tired, he is ‘exhausted.’ Don’t use ‘very’ sad, use ‘morose.’ Language was invented for one reason, boys - to woo women - and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do.”—Dead Poets Society, 1989 (via keepingquietishard)