Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps I will travel through time and lay my body down at your feet, and perhaps the wind will bring a snatch of a song that I will receive on my knees, your song, going over the same four chords, over and over and over. I never get music. I am always looking for words to hold on to even as I run out of them, I know that words are all we have. The heat gets to my head, I am detached from myself. Do you ever wonder if we are characters in a movie? After the world ends I will arrange the memories, clash all the colours against each other and then pick them apart, like broken mirror shards, like clips from that broken movie of life all think we star in. After all of that is done I will look back on us and say that we were very happy together, indeed.
