Saturday, 10 April 2010
After the rain comes absolution, a breather. Wherever you are, I still feel like I'm lying next to you. We're kissing under the black sky, as the world falls down around us. There was never any need to fix it. Let it run away with itself, down the drain, to the dogs. We can play catch in the yard, you can fight your demons from the comfort of the sofa, while I make jam in the kitchen. There's associations, yes. But there's always interior decoration. This love is fucking visceral.