six seven times

last night i sighed in the dark, sleepless. how many things had happened in mere minutes, thoughts on taking photos and love, sexual fantasy, homes, the colors of tea, skin not yet ever tasted, counting down from one hundred, wondering what goes on unseen under my nose, what goes on in berlin and vienna, under some rock that nobody's ever bothered to lift. we may never grasp the magic, but it does fill the veins.

even if it's rather empty, for now.
perhaps, you are right, i should stop romanticising.

you have got a lot to answer for

i want this happiness to last. for a long long time.
i don't ever want it to go away.
you make me so happy that sometimes when i look at you, all i am able to feel is a lack of breath and that i really need to take a deep deep sigh.
so much love, really.