last night, you asked me a question i was so sure i'd have the answer to.
you asked, "what makes me weird?"
in that moment, every thought in my mind rained like a tempest to find the answer - loud and all at once.
last night, i made a list.
today, i scrapped it.
maybe i realised it could never do you justice. maybe it was because i knew something so abysmal could not be counted in numbers.
i have an entire spectrum of weird mapped out in my head, and you dip into every single one.
it started from the word 'panties'.
socks and sandals.
the fact that you've never watched barney.
when you first told me you wanted to disappear.
when you first told me you were in love, but wasn't sure.
the way your mind weaves thoughts into intricate constellations, and that's only just a small fragment of the universe inside your head.
the way your presence draws everything in like gravity.
the way you make me feel.
am i weird for saying i love it? all of it. the parts i have learned and the parts i have yet to learn about you.
when we first meet, i will memorise you like a work of art, so i will know if your eyes are showing sadness, or joy, or if your brows furrow when you're concerned, or if your heart beats in sync with mine.
i will paint you with all the colours i stole.
and it will be... weird. beautiful, but weird.
