I never understood what the phrase ‘love sick’ meant. I thought that love was supposed to be great and make you feel like every day was brighter and ever flower smell sweeter, so why would you call it a sickness? Because of you I now know why it’s called a sickness.
When I sit beside you at the table in our fourth period Doctrine class, by heart beats hard. My stomach twist it’s self into knots when our arms brush as we both reach for out Bibles. When the teacher calls you out to ask about your understanding because you are the only Episcopalian in a room full of Baptist, I look over and the sheepish grin you wear on your face makes my head go all fuzzy and all I can think about is those lips pressed against mine.
When we are selling snacks to younger kids during lunch, I make idle small talk, trying to resist the urge to skip the fluffy stuff and get right into the deep things, what you think of the universe and your place in it; what your deepest fear is