I like the word “love” because it tastes of lilac in my mouth, like Parma Violets and peaceful desert at the table with no disagreements and the tv just quietly chatting to itself in the background.
It tastes a little like light rain outside of my window, when I am sat, surrounded by my blankets and a carton of cigarettes, setting out a story about the two of us. A sunset. Sometimes, it feels like a sunset. Soft colours colliding in an endless sky that stretches as far as I can see, sinking into the scattered trees. That is how love feels to me.
It feels like I am being watched over as I sleep, my eyes, heavy and my breath steadily ticking along with the sound of the clock as the world fades behind my dreams.
It looks like a new chapter, a new page where I am not bound by the boundaries I paid attention to in the past. It looks like a blank, beautiful page, where anything is possible.