Happiness is just a wet blanket I wrap myself up in at night
I think it'll make me warm at first. And it does.
But as the cold night draws forward it leaves me sopping and shivering.
Love is a lot like a wet blanket.
Except when it's not.
When her smile is like a fireplace that lights up the home in your heart.
Her heart.
It belongs to her now
Her kind of love was like a Sun in a vast sea of darkness where the tides of life rip everything to shreds and take everything away
Her love causes the galaxies in my veins to collide so fiercely my heart jumps out of my chest.
Her love
Was love
And nothing less