consistently inconsistent, that’s how i’d describe him – tall, caramelised, and unforgivably handsome wouldn’t be as fitting.
with a mere breath expelled through his lips, he is capable of reducing me to a fluttery mess, and charms the remembrance of his inconsistencies out of my mind, so that i’m more susceptible to his undecided and inconsistent affections. so that i’m charmed out of my mind.
yet when his heart, mind, penis, or whatever it is he thinks with decides he can’t do another second without hearing the sound of my voice, or the cooing that flutters from my now malleable buttery mess, he brings with him the energy and commitment of a man madly, unreservedly, and limitlessly in love.
and in those moments of my utterly butterly fluttery mess, i slip into a pit of oblivion, unaware of where i’m landing, and forgetting who’s arms i will very, very temporarily reside. forgetting that the consistency of his love is concentrated to that moment, to the point of toxicity.
and when my residency is suspended, i am left suspended in his land of limbo, and the tenderness i feel towards him grows thorns cultivated by his sweet nothings, and his concentrated, toxic love. tenderness sprouts thorns that choke it, and colourful expletives blossom especially for him, in time for his return – that inconsistent good-looking [expletive deleted].