Dear Boy

Dear boy, do you believe in midnight confessions?

'Cause I don't.
When its three am in the morn and our hands are numb from reckless texting and I say I love you so much, please don't fall for that shit.
I tell you, just don't.
That's just me running high on emotions because sleep wont come.
And the three am me is not the one who will be going to entertain your nuisance in broad daylight.
There's going to be a tad more bitchier, whinier & an insensitive version of me who will be going to visit you on dates.

Can you deal with me?

Don't go thinking about how many words of mine make you go running to the dictionary and how I'm wrapped in mystery.

Dear boy, it's temporary.

Are you weaving future fabrics here? And dreaming about twins who will have my eyes and your hair?
Hell no.
But dear boy, there will be a day, when I'll be too exhausted to stay up till three to tell you I love you.
I will get a job, and lead a monotonous life, get frustrated.
I will have maybe seventy two scripts to check. And I'll be suffering from back pain, start wearing glasses and will not be sporting winged eyeliner anymore.

Then, dear boy, I will be sitting on a chair, and it will be around one in the afternoon, and I'll stop scribbling with my pen to pick up my phone to text you in my perfecly sane mind and say I love you so much.

And I tell you, dear boy, you must believe me then...