my love language is you calling me weird like I’m the most expensive wine no one’s been able to afford until now.
my love language is stillness, waiting… maintaining the question for half a decade, maybe longer
8 hour hugs, synchronized breathing
my love language is to halve the distance infinitely
hearing no, saying no
having my boundaries honored, having my boundaries celebrated, when my no is held with care, like a gift instead of an inconvenience.
my love language is being touched like worship
ambiguity that leads to directness.
weird. weird like a child, like what if the trees sang to you, what if we were tigers, what if just you were a tiger and I was a ghost.
I’m only on this planet to hit peak weird, and it’s only happened three times. If you ever go there with me, you’re a universe I will struggle to exit.
my love language is living in the feedback loop where the stranger I get the more your eyes shine- like you’re daring me, and I can’t not.
my love language is seeing someone alchemize feedback and make changes.
when people tell me the hard things, the things no one else is bold enough to hit me with
my love language is maintaining eye contact to the point of hallucinating.
loss of control in the controlldest of control freaks.