Phase. Or not. Or whatever.

Persistenly denying these fluttering creatures in the pit of my gut. At my every gander , on the surface and from within appears to be meticulously structured , every inch of you. Like a jigsaw falling into its rightful place , portaying my yearnings. Surprises after endless surprises that never cease to enthrall me right to the core. Because i , relent at your contradictions unlike any other.

Immaculate , like stars alligned.
Frustrating always.