You’re the kind of person to dedicate Beatles songs to. The kind of person you don’t wake up when they’re sleeping. You go downstairs and put on the first shirt you find that was taken off last night and make some coffee. You’re bad at cooking but let’s do it anyways. You wash the dishes.
You’re the kind of person that you actually buy flowers for. But you don’t get the $30 deal from the 1800-FLOWER place. You’re the kind of person that deserves pickng through some abandoned field in the middle of fucking nowhere to find flowers and make a bouquet with some wild things and a ribbon. And a handmade card. And a box of cookies.
And you’re the kind of person you spend 2 hours stuck in a car with because you just want to be together, outside in your driveway, using ‘it’s raining too hard’ to not get out. You’re the kind of person I want to light cigarettes for, watch shitty movies with, never hold hands with but always secretly want to.
Hey, maybe we want each other in different ways, but I’m gonna play it off and say that yes, it’s the same way you want me. Laugh at your jokes even though they aren’t funny and I want to just drink another beer. Get me a beer. Oh yeah, she’s a gem isn’t she? Why am I a gem? Who calls anyone a gem anymore? You aren’t Daisy Buchanan, so stop talking like a 1920s socialite. I’m your Daisy fucking Buchanan baby, and I’m going to make you wish you did everything on Earth with me.