She loves the way her hair falls in globs, not tendrils.
She loves the way her hair doesn't fall, it floats.
She loves the way she dresses in pink.
She loves the way she dresses with her eyes closed.
She loves the way she squeaks when she's startled.
She loves the way she hisses when she's hugged.
She loves the way her eyes light up when she's asked about the significance of her research.
She loves the way her eyes darken when she's asked about the meaning of her lyrics.
She loves the way she's painfully straightedge.
She loves the way she pushes her over that edge.
She loves the way she thinks with her brain.
She loves the way she leads with her heart.
[But more than anything
She loves the way she loves her in return.]