Mmm.
There's me, and then there's you, and between us is an ocean of possibilities with an endless amount of endings. I liked it that way, because I was unpredictable, and you were unpredictable, and together we were a wonderful force of randomness that crushed all logic. We liked it that way.
Words create a sort of stable world that's just for you and me. We add to it as we go along, increasing the infinity of possible endings exponentially. We are going walking today, because the train to take us home is late and time to kill is the best time of all.
Your hand in mine feels right and safe, and our arms swing back and forth against the offbeat of our steps. Your voice mixes with mine, and it doesn't matter what we say because happiness limits nothing. Especially not in a perfectly imperfect world with those mountains of tears and those beautiful, beautiful valleys of smiles.
Exaggeration is never needed in the imagination; things in your mind will always be built upon and swallowed up with bigger and better ideas. My fingers through yours tighten for a moment, a casually in-casual acknowledgement of the pause our voices met. Your eyes smile before your mouth does, and because we can, it begins to rain.
It doesn't really matter how things connect. You and I, we aren't programs inside a box of forced thinking. We are spiderwebs, a weaving of any color we like, a cloud that won't keep it's shape. Our thoughts make sense in this little world. The rain grows heavier, and I stop walking.
You look at me for a moment, and I close my eyes to your expectant face.
I'm going to go to sleep with your arms around me and my head against you, like a happy dream that spins on after the dreamer has awoken. Your mouth near mine is a surprise, but a sweet one, and you kiss me with the rain downpouring on both of us — a cliche point that even I love.
The train comes to pick us up, but I fall asleep against you and even this doesn't have to end.
There's me, and then there's you, and between us is an ocean of possibilities with an endless amount of endings. I liked it that way, because I was unpredictable, and you were unpredictable, and together we were a wonderful force of randomness that crushed all logic. We liked it that way.
Words create a sort of stable world that's just for you and me. We add to it as we go along, increasing the infinity of possible endings exponentially. We are going walking today, because the train to take us home is late and time to kill is the best time of all.
Your hand in mine feels right and safe, and our arms swing back and forth against the offbeat of our steps. Your voice mixes with mine, and it doesn't matter what we say because happiness limits nothing. Especially not in a perfectly imperfect world with those mountains of tears and those beautiful, beautiful valleys of smiles.
Exaggeration is never needed in the imagination; things in your mind will always be built upon and swallowed up with bigger and better ideas. My fingers through yours tighten for a moment, a casually in-casual acknowledgement of the pause our voices met. Your eyes smile before your mouth does, and because we can, it begins to rain.
It doesn't really matter how things connect. You and I, we aren't programs inside a box of forced thinking. We are spiderwebs, a weaving of any color we like, a cloud that won't keep it's shape. Our thoughts make sense in this little world. The rain grows heavier, and I stop walking.
You look at me for a moment, and I close my eyes to your expectant face.
I'm going to go to sleep with your arms around me and my head against you, like a happy dream that spins on after the dreamer has awoken. Your mouth near mine is a surprise, but a sweet one, and you kiss me with the rain downpouring on both of us — a cliche point that even I love.
The train comes to pick us up, but I fall asleep against you and even this doesn't have to end.
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