when you ask me if I'm bored of listening to your terrible stories, it makes me think about what boredom means to me and why it’s beauty that I find in apparent mundanity.
you color my life in every tone of grey - in a nourishing and poetic, underrated way. GREY - the soul of every color in the world; Invisible and aligned - right between extremes - like all well designed things are known to be.
Or maybe because grey feels like routine, and you’re the everyday that's to come and that has been.
you're where I set my bar for normal; you're my Sunday night pajama informal.
You’re my common sense, and my reality check, my perspective lens, my goodnight peck. and even your grim phone voice and plot less stories on sleepless nights are part of the palette I've come to adore, painting magic in monochrome.