dancing. dancing with you under bad lights and wearing uncomfortable shoes.
talking. talking with you and not worrying about tomorrow’s next crisis.
laughing. laughing with you, like we used to. before you got the worry crease around your eyes and i started to ponder the world with a little less naivete, and a little more distaste.
anticipating. anticipating the curious way you’ll knock on my door and not question my towel. this part nobody will understand except you and i.
dissecting. dissecting our lives up to the point where we are, and then throwing it all up into the fireworks for someone else tolook at.
haggling. haggling over who will do which brilliant thing first, and why.
poking. poking at sticks at our own egos. neither of which are ever far from deflated the moment somebody, probably unimportant in the future, makes us feel small.
mondegreening. you bring your little small castle, and i’ll have no hair now.
frolicking. frolicking around, drinking milkshakes off your car-bonnet and singing katie melua songs very badly at 2am to petrol station attendants.
present-ing. random present-ing because we can. botanic items inclusive. yes, yes, that is a frond.
slowing. taking the high road, just slowly. and pulling the middle finger at the dissenters.
opinioning. your opinion and feeling on things is still a comfort to me. your honesty without hurt.
truly-ing. to truly know your feelings on everything. from bjork to bosnia, and all the bits inbetween. to truly know and to feel it’s warmth.