I think you might've broken something that you can't fix, boo.
You came to see me in Portland the other day, after about two weeks. You showed up with a single red rose. And you know what? When I put my arms around you, my whole body was shaking. Hard. You must've felt it.
When you kissed me, butterflies roared through my stomach.
But today, I went to a locksmith to get my car key fixed, after I accidentally ran it through the wash. He was young, and tall, with short brown hair and these really intense warm brown eyes.
And I just thought... damn. I felt a little nervous. Like when I opened the door and saw him standing there, I literally stumbled on my way to the desk.
Do you want to know how many times I've looked at another person and thought "god damn that person is fine", since I met you? None. Exactly zero times.
But it happened today.
I know I still have feelings for you, or I wouldn't have been standing there with weak knees and butterflies when I saw you on my porch. I still have feelings. But there's a part of me that feels like they've changed, and I'm not sure exactly how.
I'm afraid you've broken something you can't fix.
