Secrets are my addiction.
I pore over them, I coo when I discover them, I marvel at the amount of them.
Secrets are like that scab I keep reopening in hopes that it will open up again and reform so I can have that one relishing moment where I start to peel it off.
Secrets are like the first bite of a mango, the taste bursting in your mouth and your taste buds exploding with flavor.
But secrets are something so much more than that.
Secrets are the gleeful cackle you let out upon discovery.
Secrets are a tangible feeling tingling over your back as you quiver in excitement.
Secrets are the thud of your heartbeat as you hide a present from an admirer.
Secrets are the lightheaded feeling when you've seen a piece of paper that is perfectly scandalous.
Secrets are the intake of breath at a fresh piece of gossip.
Secrets are the widening of the eyes when you see someone you know steal a kiss.
Secrets are the flush in your cheeks when you're caught staring.
Secrets are the quick head-turn as you scan your surroundings.
Secrets are that feeling of new clothes on your body, the flowing fabrics, the way they shift over your skin.
Secrets are a chocolatey fingerprints on the well-worn pages of a romance novel.
Secrets are the roll of film hidden in your sock drawer.
Secrets are the ointment you rub over a broken heart.
Secrets are the ticking of the clock, as you stare at your phone.
Secrets are the underrated pleasures of life.
