Irrational

The whole situation is completely irrational.
It's just as frenzied and moonstruck as you make me.
The feeling is so overwhelming at times, and I would never modify it.
All the things I wish I could say would never properly leave my lips.
The desire to repeat myself until it flows out correctly is maddening.
The frustration of thinking "I love you" isn't enough to portray how I feel is all consuming.
There is no account of why or how it happened, and I do not even wish for an explanation if there could be one found.

I am painstakingly and entirely intoxicated.
I have never known a love-drunk quite like this before.
I despise feeling like a flighty, foolhardy girl.
I have made zero attempts to ever cease it.
I lap it up elatedly, and roll it over my tongue like a rare, expensive wine.
I wish I didn't feel so chagrined in admitting it all to you, but even the soft, bashful blushes you induce aren't enough to stop me from things like this.

I'm left to ponder what exactly is so distinctive and exceptional about you.
The answer is Everything it seems.
My tolerance of it all is infinite.
You provide a comfort and gratification found no place else.
Despite all the fear and doubt, I just closed my eyes, held my breath, and dove head first.
The water feels fine.
I wanted to describe you as the water surrounding me, keeping me afloat.
I find it much more appropriate to refer to you as the necaterous breath of air inhaled when breaking the surface after having been held under far too long.

I think absolutely too much, and I consistently pray you do also.
I'd love to beg you to say what I'm thinking and feeling, and you own it.
I like to hope there is no need for you to do so because I already know.