But obviously I cannot write.
Skip to two years ago in my room. With our matress covering the window and the room is filled with darkness and nothing else except for you and I and way too many ashtrays. We spent hours, days in this sanctruary we created for ourselves. We were so in love, because there wasn't anyone else to love, everything else had seized to exist.
I forget just why I taste, oh yeah I guess it makes me smile, I find it hard it's hard to find, oh well whatever, nevermind.