Normal day to day happenings are worlds more charming to me than fairy tales.

The simplicity in the soft light peeking through the blinds, mingling with the pulses of air from the ceiling fan. The way your hair responds to this —bending and swaying like the grass outside. The commonality of rolled down windows, radio blasted to the highest volume, and sun-burnt hands interacting with the wind in the rhythm of the music. The seemingly trivial dust prints on the backs of our pants from the hood of your car, when we all slide off after watching the clouds pass by. Our excited fingers pointing to the moon that always seems a little more brighter, a bit more rounder.

Normal day to day happenings are worlds more charming to me than fairy tales, because they happen.

You know me as I know you. Underneath the dying sunlight, just a few minutes before my flight boarded, after helping me beat a candy bar out of the machine —in huffs and sighs and frustrated curses; hair disheveled and clothes askew, running late to the terminal —both of us, in this bubble of time together. With a breathless thank you in exchange for a polite smile, it was only a brief moment we knew each other; and then we didn’t once more.

You’re such a saturated person. Your hues are all out of line, an eyesore at best; but I suppose it’s better than being washed out, right?

——

Your arm felt heavy around my shoulders. Heavy, and warm, and comforting. But I’m not meant to stay.

——

She sat high in the branches, legs swinging —leaning forward and whispering. Sweet words plopped onto his head like raindrops, but her voice was soft enough so that he dismissed it as the passing breeze, filtering through the leaves.

I guess if her words fell in a forest, only she’d be able to hear them.

At first I thought falling in love meant falling into your arms, but that didn’t hold up for very long. Your arms eventually caught someone else, and so I had to change my definition to fit anyone. Well, not just anyone —someone new. So now, falling in love means smiling eyes and warm hands and connections that run just below my skin so the blush of my cheeks matches the red of your lips after we kiss.

So far, I haven’t yet fallen in love again.

The night envelopes me in a way which the day cannot. In the day, you’re just so exposed, you see everything —everything sees you. But with the darkness the setting sun brings, it’s as if a blanket is hung around my shoulders and over my head, relatively hidden.

——

I’m not even gone and I miss you. All of you. There’s a hollowness in my gut, and stinging at my eyes.

feel something.

Because once you lose that, you’ve lost your humanity. And that’s the scariest type of person to fear.

Even my bones are too heavy for my frame.

I like soft moments. Memories that are slightly blurred at the edges with sun-bleached colors —something out of an old film; where all that’s left are the raw emotions and gears shifting in time, in their rightful places.

You know now what will happen, but the same anticipation pulls at your heartstrings.

I tell you this because the most uncoordinated of gestures are the least rehearsed —the most unfiltered. I want a love to stumble into, because I’m just so enthralled by it, I don’t care where my feet are heading. Give me exciting conversation! Not meaningless dribble, empty dialogue, societal expectations. Show me your scars; tell me how a deep quote was shared with you today, but it didn’t sink in because you’ve read it already, not so dignified —scrawled inside a bathroom stall; right next to a booty-call number. Give me useless trivia— teach me something ridiculous. I’m not expecting grandeur, nor intellectually tiring exchanges; but I’d like to see what lights the fire in your eyes, and I want to have comfort in knowing your hand fits in mine.

Love me gracelessly.

He has that warm sort of smile that conveys humility without asking for pity, and I just want to ask how that can be. So rarely do I find a person -at first impression- who so seamlessly balances two closely related —yet drastically unequal characteristics. I myself try to tread between confidence without conceit and dignity without smugness, and I doubt I’ve ever succeeded.

——

I can’t help but notice the subtle hand gestures people make as they study. As if pulling at the air or clenching their fists is truly conducive to memory absorption.

I’m guilty as well.

I swore the stardust is what made me sneeze the other night— I’m sorry you couldn’t figure that out and tried valiantly to keep me from sneezing; I couldn’t find any way to tell you because they kept going on like hiccups where I wasn’t able to see where I was going, attempting to walk back into shelter —but instead we ended up under a sapling and laughed at our situation, the way we laugh at everything.