I never really stop, you know.
It's not just words.
It's the times of day and night that they come out.
It's the remembrance of every little thing that means I recognise you amid thousands of pictures (even under a pseudonym).
It's the ability to stop commenting on your platforms to give you the space and respect you deserve. Specially when the ache runs so deep and tears burn my skin and melt the screen into a fuzzy thing.
It's the typographic error and a shattered screen. It's to have you present in my day and night dreams. To stop only when exhaustion overwhelms me.
It's jumping into a train to the Treehouse at the smallest inkling.
It's waiting for you every Saturday at High Wycombe railway station, from 7-9 pm.
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