I fall for you like a rustling leaf whispered by the wind, and laid haplessly on the mat outside my porch.
I fall for you like the last drop of condensed milk in a cup of hot tea, the kind I want to serve to you for breakfast someday.
I fall for you like echoes heard in caves repeatedly to the last wave of sound, the ones we will hear in our future travels.
I fall for you for your spontaneous giggles at almost every passing ordinary words coming out of my mouth, unplanned and unprepared.
I fall for you for your obvious awkwardness when you struggle to say your order whenever we dine out.
I fall for you for your honest behavior to sleep during a film I find excited to watch.
I fall for you for no reason except for whatever you are.
I fall for you at every “hey” before long questions.
I fall for you at every “so?” before firm answers.
I fall for you at every “let’s!” before permanent decisions.
I might have fallen for you already, unknowingly, as our hands shook the first time.
I am falling for you at the moment of writing this.
I fall for you every time I am lost for words when you start rambling about things in chaotic orders.
But I will not fall for you in the future.
Because by then I will stay and be with you.