What think you love when you lie by me? What compels your arms to embrace?
I am cast in the mould of a cynic and pour cold comfort on malaise. Hard love holds little truck with sympathy and I am well versed in its ways. I am not always blessed with patience, rarely blessed by grace. I career along life’s highway as if it’s a one entrant stock car race. I slumber like a marooned walrus and my exotic imagination is given to frenzied dreams. I am far less a partner, more a good intention, unintentionally misplaced.
Maybe it’s best that you don’t tell me. Best you don’t explain.
This world’s not meant for understanding and turns more sweetly on its axis if those upon it simply don’t. All I can give is true affection, be forever honest and accept that what we have the gift of providence; that it’s a miracle we ever met. We can tell each other stories of our unhappy previous lives. We can moan and groan and niggle from sun up until sundown, but there is nowhere that I’d rather be, with no other heart would I be bound.