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.