I want you. I want you in the most expensive way possible. I don’t want your money, your possessions but something much more costlier than that.
I want your sincerity knowing you think of me when I am not around. I want to feel your eyes on me when I’m excitedly blabbering. I want you to ruffle your hair stopping the smirk at my lame jokes. I want you to want to hear me. I want you to feel my pain when I losing at life. I want you to look for me at dinner tables when I’m not sitting next to you. I want you the way I like the compositions of period drama. The yearning, the longing, the confession of love under the red, Auburn sunset. As I said, in the most expensive way possible.