within the flow of crowded staircases and bottleneck hallways
someone is at home.
he who is at home is quiet
a stoic figure with a name nobody knows.
he’s beautiful though.
my molded and preconceived mind whispers impossibilities
desperately spewing white noise
reminding of the fact that beauty is nothing but a string of objective senses.
but god, he's beautiful.
and i know society tells us the fragility of man is broken by such feminine words
but handsome simply doesn’t captivate the galaxies i see in him.
the other day in class, we talked of the concept of love
some argued it to be nothing more than an imbalance of chemical reactions in our biology
some argued it to be a deterministic tool, where invisible red strings crossed all over the world.
i couldn’t place my opinions, suddenly.
i didn’t love you.
i admired your aesthetic values.
that was different.
but oh god
you are beautiful.
A/N: sorry for a 40 year absence. I realized in class a week or so ago when I wrote this, that I needed to be back
