I turn to you like I would turn to a drug. Except I don’t do drugs. But wait, I believe compulsively soaking in the morning sunshine and sinking my nose deep into shiuli flowers also count as drugs, minus the grave bodily damage – ta da! But, I digress.
So I turn to you like I would turn to a drug. You lighten the darkest of my afternoons, when all I can see from my silly, corner desk at work is a sombre sky. I have such a love affair with you that it seems sad beyond the grave that you will be gone in a month or two. Relegated to cold storage, ignored, graying and dehydrating. Continue reading