We live in cigarette smoke and shadows and uncontrollable laughter; in music, and in the way the wood floor creaks and shakes the whole house even when you walk lightly on it.
We live in cold basement walls and staircases lined with blue neon lights.
We live in confusion and my fingers pressing into your skin and the way you would wrap all of yourself around me while I ****** you.
We live in the ***** moments followed by the sweet ones where you would kiss my forehead and I could feel your warm body slide up against me in the middle of the night.
The most I remember of those days was bundling up in layers and walking outside through snow up to our knees just to get to Williamson road under the setting sun just so we could get a pack of cigarettes.
The sky was dark blue and it reminded me a lot of your eyes.
I remember waking up to the sound of guitars upstairs and the way you nodded your head and lost yourself in the melody of your own music.
I would watch your fingers-- the way they would pluck the cords and slide over the instrument so effortlessly.

And you look at me from across the room and for a moment, I'm at a loss for words

so I just smile.