Chelsea came up with the idea for me to express my love for you in a simple letter, I can't tell you this in person because the simple smell of your scent or the vivid memory of your perfectly rounded lips makes me freeze and lose all cohort thought. I know that this is the most un-St Trinian thing I could do and I realise that this is a cowards approach but it's the only way for me to tell you exactly how much you mean to me and what you do to me. I don't know if anything will come of this and I don't expect you to come running into my arms but do not dismiss this as childish and petty. That will crush me. I apologise if this is a little forward but it needs to be out in the open.
What you don't notice is what your presence, smell and thought does to me. It's as if you're the personification of my happiness or the defender of the just emotion. Your touch makes all of my fears suddenly disappear, even the most innocent of touches create sparks that spread through my entire body faster then fire on a rag soaked in oil. It's like life is teasing me, dangling somebody as graceful, elegant and powerful as you close to me, mocking every fibre of my being. I want you by side and I want to be by yours, through everything and anything.
I know that you are no good for me, I know that I need someone who won't tease me the barest of touches or who won't smirk at me knowingly. But you have me hooked Kelly Jones, the thought of you being with me both emotionally and physically is cemented in my pure mind. You are never far from my thoughts, no matter where I look all I see is the imprint of you. It's as if you are a ghost to me, always watching and always there but impossible to catch. Troublemaker is your middle name, you make me feel a pain that is worse then the world's most venomous poison but at the same time a blissful goodness that is like heaven itself.
When I look into your face, the dream starts to become a twisted reality. When I look into your eyes I fall into the bottomless pit of longing and desire. I can barely form a sentence in front of you, it's as if you mentally reach out to me and snatch any sound from my throat. You are my personal Ursula and my own Prince Eric at the same moment in time, I am a aurox when it comes to making anything more than small talk with you. You're making my heart skip, skip, skip a beat.
I need you, I crave you and I desperately cling to the mere prospect of you strutting past me. You have me willing wrapped around your finger tighter then Chelsea's current outfit, I can't take it any more. The easy words that drift like smoke from your forbidden mouth and float effortlessly into my ears, it drives me into a fit of raging teenage hormones that are difficult to suppress. Kelly Jones, is the name that is whispered to me in my deepest, most personal dreams. I would happily chase you across any continent on any crazy adventure if it meant that I could hold you and be held myself. I would fight alongside you in order to bring peace upon the wizarding world, create chaos in Panem or battle monsters from the depths of Tartarus itself.
You are the Lilly to my Allen, my tea to my toast and my Percy to my Annabeth.
You've got my heart Kelly Jones, now you decide what to do with it.
Don't ask what was running through my mind when I wrote this because I clearly haven't taken this seriously at all
Review because the English Gentleman isn't extinct, just endangered.
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