Nonsense

everything is dreamy in the beginning.

you don’t think about changing their diaper while fucking in the backseat of their rental or the kitchen floor or the office couch or that beautiful patch of grass two miles away from home that no one knows about except you.

in the age of social media and selfies you don’t think about how important a polaroid might be when trying to help them remember who you are. who they are. they drive with one hand while holding yours on a cross-country trip as you sing to music and embrace the moment of feeling that finally you’ve found the one, the one that made the pain of all the others so worth it.

you don’t think about them not being able to work and needing to switch roles or take on roles you never considered to be auditioning for.

it’s a business. you open shop and close it every day rain or shine. sometimes you win big and sometimes you go under but you never stop building. you don’t think about how valuable the rubble is so you go off looking for a new foundation, something that looks and feels better than the wars you’ve been through.

everything stays dreamy if you just keep fucking. doesn’t really matter who. or what, when or where. fuck it anyway.