Peculiar, Like No Other

They ask me, "What does love even feel like?" And I just smile… Because I know — it's Peculiar. Not strange… but rare. Not random… but written somewhere. Like the stars paused just to stare When God made her with extra care. She sees the me I rarely show, Loves me deep, not just for show. And I? I cherish her in every tense — Past, present, and future sense. She’s Peculiar — not just in name, But in how she walks through my brain, How she turns my “what-ifs” into plans, And still finds time to hold my hands. So when they ask, “Is love a feeling? A place?” I just smile, thinking of her face… And whisper, "It’s Peculiar... like no other."