self-examination

I like fairy lights, soft layers of chiffon in pastels and drapes, although I almost never wear pastels. Stumbling upon hole-in-the-wall cafes dishing up classic teatime fare, taking the train and getting off at a stop far away from home, and then exploring on my own. I like it when someone brings up something I thought was silly or insignificant from a conversation ages ago; something I myself struggle to remember. When you're in the company of someone and a passing thought becomes a spoken word and that person shares the same sentiments and the both of you lapse into a kind of content silence - a comfortable silence. I like stripped and destroyed brick walls, windows from the floor to the ceiling, mismatched frames, dark wood and candles, furry rugs. Talking over mugs of green tea lattes and hot cocoa, smiling over the rims, wearing oversized band tees. I think I like my bed too much, and the light I let in when half my blinds are drawn, vegetating under the paper lanterns woven into my bedframe. I like thinking, even if I mostly over do it, because it makes me feel like I care, even if it's too much sometimes. Bon Iver, Bombay Bicycle Club's Flaws, Kings of Convenience, Ben Howard turned down low. The knowledge of mutual attraction, leading to the tentative touch from suddenly trembling hands. The subtle flirtations of two compatibly intelligent minds, the little games and the little glances. Catching someone looking at you and both offender and victim are immediately bashful, evasively avoiding each other until the next time your eyes meet again. Having your favourite food or colour or band or song remembered, because somebody actually cares enough. I like lyrics that speak to you the instant you hear them, and you always anticipate them the subsequent plays. The scenarios movies plant in your head, the scenarios you conjure up to give yourself something; anything to look forward to. Not being able to stop talking to someone and get to bed and you complain but actually, you don't really mind. The pleasure a good ol' grilled ham and cheese sandwich can deliver. Shopping for home furnishings at IKEA. I like peanut butter breath, late night suppers in paper boxes, and afternoon cuddles in a dark room when it's pouring outside. Nestling in the crook of one's neck, skimming my nose over the clavicle and slope of the shoulders - tracing with the lips. The searing heat between the skin of his back and his shirt. I like long letters and short notes messily scribbled as if in the complete spur of the moment, as if he had to get it down on paper. The jolting accidental brush of forearms or feet or hands. The tiniest smidgeon of faith, hope, love; in a moment of complete darkness, provided by the most unexpected person.