Dear you,

I’m not gonna lie to you: this is a love letter. This is an attempt to articulate to you the way it feels when you call me, “baby.” I’m gonna try to explain what it feels like when you hold my fingers under the table at Korean restaurants when you think no one is watching. The way I blush when you look at my face for too long and I try not to read too much into the words your eyes are forming, but I think I’m seeing “get” and “want” and “out of here.”