You are messy hair and shy smiles,
deep voice and drunk nights alone,
silenced thoughts and rushed words,
blurry lines and my new favourite song.
You are a satellite image of a city from high up above,
vast, but oh so beautiful.
You are made of starry winter skies and warm jumpers,
homemade candles and fairy lights,
unfinished art projects and splattered paint.
You are false hope, envy, blissful ignorance,
her love and not mine.
You are warmth and sunlight in a dark room,
laughter and butterflies in the pit of my stomach.
I think I’m in love with you.
Hope that’s okay.