tuberoses.

Sometimes, I wonder how complex the simplicity of the human is, just the way they are, just the way they will be.
Just the way they hurt and just the way they love.
Little things they do to show love.
Buying their love flowers and keeping a piece of it when the bunch withers and dies, pressed between the pages of a book.
How you love their smell and how a smile stretches across your face everytime you get a trace.
Hands touching while crossing the road and the heart, oh dear heart, skipping a million beats.
Standing and talking about nothing and everything,
about love and pain, about grief and vain.
Kissing the crinkles by their eyes,
Pressing your ears to their heart while they caress your hair.
Sometimes I wonder how simple the complexity of the human is, just the way they deal with pain and with grief.
Holding their hand, tracing a heart on their palm while they stare into nothingness, their eyes sorrowful and tender.
How they stand, hands crossed, reminiscing about good times that no longer feel good,
While you hold their finger,
How they sit with you, knees touching, as you tell them about the pain you’re in, about how much you’re grieving.
Sometimes, I wonder how beautiful the human is,
How their eyes smile when they look at you,
How you can see the black in them as they hold your hand and touch your cheek.
Sometimes, I wonder how a human can make you feel at home.