There is no formula for attraction.
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 know.
I just don’t.