you, to me, are just an irony.
you're like a blank space
filling up a canvas,
a hot cup of tea
on the warmest summer day,
a cold shower
in the middle of winter,
you're the lines and patterns
on my plain white shirt.
you and me, we're such an irony.
i always tried to figure you out
when you never made sense.
i always tried to search for you,
but you were always out of my reach.