I am tired of the way things try to be. I am tired of promises and expectations and disappointment. I'm tired of the future but I'm afraid of the past. The present is the only place either of us can live, my dear. The present is the only place we belong.
I wish there were words to say what goes through our minds, but instead our fingers will pretend to be paintbrushes and our bodies will serve as canvases and together we'll create art. That's all we ever wanted to do, anyway. Create art.
And baby, hasn't this been masterpiece?