I can't quite put my finger on the reasons why I like you. I can't quite button down this sick kind of whimsy you kind of make me sick with, with which you make me sick.
I can't quite put my finger on the reasons why I loathe your kind of unkind yet kind face of flaws -- I see strange life in those button eyes -- I want to lance those button moles.
Your fortune cookie mouth breaks into an impish smile and I almost trust you -- I sort of want to pinch your sweet cheeks on my sprint to the bathroom.
I can't quite put my finger on why you make me puke.
MLydiaM ~ July 2011
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