You asked me about what kind of love is it that I'm feeling for you.
You asked me this because I confessed to you, at the night of your birthday, that I love you.
But you just laugh because we're both drunk. And you thought that I just caught up in the moment.
But then, I confessed again. Sober. And awake.
And I think a came too strong on confessing .
We barely spoke for a week.
But after that, you invite for a cup of coffee.
You ask me...
What kind of love is that you had for me?
I look in your eyes, as if Im breathing oxygen from it.
Have.
I corrected you.
I still feel this for you. I still have this feeling for you. As of now, if you'll insist on asking that, this is my answer.
Its the kind of love that I want to hold your hand like this.
And then I put my hand on top of his hand.
His eyes follow the movement and then look at me again.
I pull my hand and keep it to myself. And I smile to him.
This kind of love is the one that I could look into your eyes and see wonders I never seen in my entire life.
The kind of love, that I wanna kiss those soft, red lips of yours under the moonlight or under a blanket.
I look outside the café, you follow my gaze.
And then I look back at you.
Whenever I'm lonely, you're the one I want to go to. To talk to. To cry on.
And whenever youre sad, I want to make you smile, more so, I want to make you happy.
This kind of love that when I feel cold and alone, I want your warmth and yours only.
I intensely and sweetly look at your eyes. And I place my hand near my chest where my heart rests.
Whenever, I hear your voice, it makes my heart race and it feels like its gonna beat out of off my chest.
If these answers came out too strong for you,
then I'll make advantage of it while you were still here in front of me.
Can I date you?
