We exist as a beautiful abstract painting. The sound of the orchestra drifts over the Atlantic every few nights or so. The wind that sounds the chime: in my neighbour’s window. A kiss passed, lover to lover where one country meets the other. The river that floods the map One day, I will open my door and the stream will have reached my feet.
I am not looking to be someone’s everything because I don’t want to leave them with nothing when I go. I just want to be the one to dance in the rain with and hold hands with and want for just one moment.