259. Right under my feet there's air made of bricks, that pulls me down and turns me weak for you.

I would say I love you.

Oh god, the way you attract me. I don’t even see you, don’t even have to look at you closely to know how brutally, mercilessly, and uncaringly you dazzle me, flabbergast me, leave me in a daze. You bring along the smell of frangipanis and early spring, rain and sheer delight. You never know how much dimmer the world would have been without you.

A beautiful lie, a beautiful mess, a beautiful disaster.