THUNDERSTORMS ARE PERFECT OPPORTUNITIES TO CUDDLE.
WHAT IF THE POWER GOES OUT.
LETS MAKE A FORT.
DID LIGHTNING JUST SHOOT THROUGH OUR WINDOW?
LETS MAKE OUT.
Sometimes Sunday mornings feel exactly like Sunday mornings
if you wake up in his arms
and you don’t want to get out;
you and he are an island
where time does not apply.
You figure if you don’t look at the clock,
time will just stop passing
and you can hold him for a lifetime
because he never wanted to leave
your hands empty.
He’s on the other side of the room,
for the first time, you’re singing to a crowd of more than five;
your hold on the guitar is shaky
til you finally stop looking at the floor and you find him
and his face makes your lungs feel new.
He mouths “I love you” across the room,
people become a blur of praise and cliche.
Nothing matters except the way he picks you up
and spins you around when you say
he is the most dazzling colour in this world.