Its been five hours since you left,
And ripped the rug out from underneath,
This comfy position that we have enjoyed,
For the last 410 hours.
A self confessed eccedentesiest,
And an eesome enigmatic character,
Embarking on a gin fuelled fantasy,
Winding down a treacherous path,
That leads to a foggy haze.
A night of laughter and doey eyes,
Of smiles and hopes that will never die,
Of putting the best version of ourselves forward,
And trying to hide the demons,
And trying too hard.
A morning of snuggles and hand holding,
Of wanting and of more joking.
Of looking into your brown eyes and noticing all the little details of your body,
Like the heart shaped freckle on your arm,
Oh why, did the breaking of the day lead to the end?
Quixotically Perfect 