Cigarette ash and coffee stains in the veins of the threads of this white shirt.
More stains in the veins on her skirt from my vain, biological ability to pain her with my existence.
Days passing and nothing stays the same in this place.
But her and I will spend the summer days is in better places.
Sands, oceans, ponds and bikinis.
We can sit in silence or talk until my ears bleed.
I'm happy either way.
Happy these days.