You seem perfect.
Perfectly flawed, I know.
Don’t confuse the intent behind my omission. I see the halo balanced perfectly over your horns.
Do I like you though?
Butterflies don’t congregate inside my bowels. Everythings calm, no panic, my shoes don’t even feel tied together as my eye balls skate pirouettes about your frame.
Its not like the first time when I didn’t notice you. Its not like those days when you were only a familiar stranger. Eavesdropping little sister trying to see whats happening, but nothing was happening.
Dancing round a camp fire listening to scary stories sitting across from you and not know it. I never rushed, you never frowned. Or maybe you did but that was then and this is now.
I don’t know if I’m ready, I have lost sight of the harbour of certainity the closer I get your confusion.
I’m not confused, I’ve never found more clarity in my madness.
Its supposed to be conscious decision, right?