If I wasn't a shrinking violet, I'd tell you that you've been very present in my intimate moments for a few days in a row.
I'd tell you that the way you bite your lips when I'm talking to you is why I can hardly look you in the eye. And it's driving me crazy (in a good sense).
I'd also tell you that I'm terrified to throw this all away because I'm not enough, or not what you're expecting. Although what scares me the most is the fact that I could get even more broken than before.
And I'd tell you that I love it when you look me in the eye and draw that smirk that would make effing Han Solo envious.
There, I said it.
The Bad Influence