I want you.
I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up.
I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed.
I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night.
I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find.
I want to talk about everything in the world newspapers.
I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you.
I want to have differences between us.
I want your flaws. All of them.
I want go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you.
I want to be surprised by the new all the time.
I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Like, you don’t actually love them and you know you don’t, but you know you could. You realise that you could easily fall in love with them. It’s almost like the bud of a flower, ready to blossom but it’s just not quite there yet. And you like them a lot, you really do. You think about them often, but you don’t love them. You could, though. You know you could.”
"I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”