The way you started as a fairytale, I almost wished that you never became my reality.
And yet, here you stand, four years hence, with the same smile on your face and you have not changed at all, and I am still trying to hold onto the shores while you become storm after storm. Would you believe if I told you that I have cried more for your sake than I did for my stupid depression? It’s fucked up really, and I feel like I need a smoke before I even sit down with these stupid posts.
I remember that night, I guess it was three in the morning and you asked me to a dance. I don’t understand why I danced. You hair was messed up and the music was some stupid indie band you were recently obsessed with, and I looked like a zombie out of hell. You swore you were not high that day, but, you left me with a hit that was bigger than all the smokes I had had in the past five years.
You motherfucking piece of shit you, God, I love you.
I want to sound edgy and make a comment that makes sense, I want to wear a gown to our wedding even though it seems impossible. But, moreover I want to wake up next to you like this, again and again until my breathlessness on seeing you is the norm and I don’t feel so scared anymore.
Heres to winters honey, heres to lovers galore and all the little things that sems to matter to you.