We chat and talk, chatter and babble, endlessly, moulding the world around us with witty words which bounce around in the corners of our sense of humour, like a cangaroo on LSD. I feel my arms and legs strecthed out before your eyes, awkward as a teenager with a body grown tall too fast: don't really know what to do with it. I sit and curl my arms close to my knees and try to catch that spark in your eyes which seem to appear more often these days. Every time I make you laugh I want to kiss you, lean my head onto yours and hope that the warm and fuzzy feeling inside me would magically transfer into your head and you'd understand why you make me so happy.
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