Kings among Runaways

We're both sitting down in our secret hideaway, and being trapped in this bubble means more to me than anything. Because in this bubble, the trees are green and the buildings don't have cracks in them. There is enough air for the both of us, we don't have to share. There is music, and it's playing in your ear and in mine. In our bubble there's something in your face and in your absence of words that makes my heart sink and my head float.

It isn't about what's wrong and what's right anymore. You and I both know that words like wrong and right are nothing more than opinion, collective or otherwise. None of this is more than an opinion- and opinions are of little consequence to me these days. Because I know it is something more than that, that I'd so much rather cling on to, something steader, something harder, and something I can trust far more than an opinion. The lines between right and wrong are skewed and dotty and I want nothing more than to be able to forget that they exist, and run into my own horizons, while consciously stepping over them.

I love long train rides, because they make me so grateful for company. They make me so grateful, and they put something back in me that every long day makes me forget I had. I know what you think, you know what I think, there is only little that can be added or subtracted between us anymore. Sitting there, hearing the tracks fly beneath us only makes me thankful that I'm not doing it alone, as silly as it may sound. It makes me thankful that you're here riding the world with me, and that I'll always have your shoulder to rest my head on. Even if it adds or subtracts against my will. My will is nothing more than an opinion.

I wish you all the sunrays and saturdays in the world, as well as perfect rainy evenings seeing the sky turn darker with no want for tears. I wish you many more songs, and many more words that I don't feel the need to say because I know you read it. Perhaps we're too impulsive, but sometimes I feel that the most mature people are those who act on impulse, instead of running in circles of thought and arriving at the same conclusion in the end.

I got the shoes. I bought them on impulse. They're beautiful, and we all know it. Perhaps we need to make more of these purchases once in a while, where we've been blurred by reality, so cleverly disguised as emotion.