Maybe it was the way you talked to me that made my heart grow fond; there was a gentleness in the way you carried yourself around me that made me feel the butterflies, or in my case, moths. I was drawn to the flame. But this particular flame did not seem dangerous, just a little, warm.
Maybe it was your smile. It was different; I had only seen it when we talked on rare occasions. You made a silly joke and we both laughed. Maybe I am after all, naive; I am not good at discerning someone's character, not at first, but not even after months. Years will pass and I may finally say, "Ah! So this is what they're like.", but I still may not be sure. I had heard of your flaws and yet I could not bring myself to like you any less.
Maybe I am delusional, my imaginations are running wild. But I had noticed your stolen glances and it made me think otherwise. And if I may quote Jane Austen and say, ".. we are all fools in love.", Indeed! I am a fool. I fully admit and acknowledge. If I have taken your kindness and affability otherwise, do forgive me. I couldn't help but fall for someone so much like myself and after all, the heart wants what it wants, right?
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