In A Weird Place

Audre Lorde, from The Black Unicorn: Poems; “Journeystones I-XI”

When someone starts to fall, it shows up everywhere—not in the love confession (that’s the easy part), but in the twitch of a smile, in the silence that suddenly feels charged, in the way someone’s hand almost reaches out before pulling back.

╰ They start listening… with their whole damn body

Suddenly, they’re turned toward this person all the time. Full body facing them. Chin tilted slightly in. They lean forward during small talk like it’s breaking news. They notice things, like the rhythm of their voice, the way their lips move when they think too hard. They stop fiddling with their phone. Their knee bounces until the other person speaks, and then, stillness. They’re so present, it hurts.

╰ Their eye contact gets… weird

Sometimes they can’t stop looking. Sometimes they can’t look at all... There’s that moment—the pause, the flicker—where their eyes land on the other person’s mouth for just a second too long. Or they track their hands. Or notice how their hair falls into their face. It’s not about lust. It’s yearning, and it’s quiet and stupid and full of panic. And when the person catches them looking? Immediate eye dart. Back to their drink. To the sky. To anywhere else. Guilty. Flushed. Terrified.

╰ Their hands get stupid

They’re suddenly very aware of what their hands are doing. They fidget more. Or freeze. They keep their arms close to their body, like they’re worried they’ll accidentally reach out. If they touch the other person, even casually, it lingers. Not long enough to be noticed, but long enough to matter. Sometimes they adjust the other person’s collar or brush something off their sleeve and then have a tiny meltdown inside. That kind of touch feels too intimate. It’s not flirtation. It’s reverence.

╰ Their silence means more than their words

They trail off mid-sentence. Laugh at things they don’t usually laugh at. Start saying something and stop themselves. It’s because their brain is trying to do too many things at once—act normal, sound chill, don’t make it weird, try not to look like you’re in love. Meanwhile, the body is over here sweating, shifting, subtly turning toward the other person like a sunflower in denial.

╰ Their whole vibe gets softer

There’s a gentleness that creeps in. Even if they’re a sharp, snarky character, there’s a moment where they look at the person like they’re a planet they’ve just discovered. It’s brief. It’s devastating. It’s involuntary. And they might pretend it didn’t happen. But the reader saw it. The love interest definitely saw it. And suddenly, everything is different.

╰ Bonus: They mirror the other person without meaning to

Audre Lorde, from The Black Unicorn: Poems; “From the house of Yemanjá”