There is no formula for attraction.
For love.
For this mish mash we call life.

There is nothing that explains to me.
Why I am.
Attracted to you.

You’re not my type.
You’re not in my books.
Not in the art.

You’re all things removed from me.
To list it here would reveal you.
So I won’t.

Somebody please explain this mess in my mind.
Preferably not you, because then we might be more than nothing.

And as much as I want that.
I don’t.
I do.
I don’t.
I do.
I don’t know.
I don’t.
I do.
I just don’t.
Know.
Won’t.
Risk.
It all.

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K