and really, you can't blame me for falling in love under that sky; who wouldn't?
the infinite grey, the angry blue
the dark clouds that should have been an omen,
but i was too blind to see anything apart from
you, you, you
laughing
speaking
being.

and it's no wonder the greeks wrote of love and hate, of death and life, of madness within and without; who wouldn't have been consumed by the sky, the sea, the very earth beneath our feet in that place?