I wish today was the 2nd Thursday of the month.

Sometimes I think about you.
What your blood tastes like and how old you were when you got your first haircut.
Sometimes I think about her, too.
Uncomfortable for all of us, especially her if she knows she is the one we are discussing.
Yes, you.
But I am not going to take it back.
Your skin looks like porcelain and I would like to kiss you.
Not for pleasure,
I just want to count the bumps on your tongue with my own.
I'm intrigued.
I'm not attracted to her, I'm not attracted to him,
I'm attracted to them.
I'm attracted to the fact they can be that selfless with one another and not wear shoes all at the same time.
I'm attracted to the lie the new boy just told us, in an attempt to save himself.
I'm attracted to the legs in those shorts.
My heart just skipped a beat when I thought about his capability to kill.
Out of fear or amazement, I am not quite sure,
But I'm attracted to him all the same.
Mr. Darcy will always own my heart, aside from Sundays, and every other Thursday.
On Sundays it belongs to his servants, appearing once on screen and never in writing.
I'm attracted to them, I can relate to them.
They are no one.
I am no one.
We are no one, and I'm attracted to that.
Every other Thursday, my heart is in Jeffery Dahmers hands...and mouth.
I am flattered by the enjoyment he feels.
He likes the way it tastes and I'm attracted to that.
I'm attracted to what I want, what I see, and who I am.
I'm attracted to humans,
Just not enough.
But please don't let that stop you from letting my tongue count the number of bumps on yours.
I really do think you are cute.