pale drops of water...

It was like small pale drops of water that buried slid themselves under my collar as we sat hand in hand in Liszt Ferenc ter, talking about my crazy demons. Talking sometimes without saying very much, just the simple knowledge that he cares enough to sit with me and my sour flavoured crying face and at least try and find out what's wrong... it can't be easy for him either.
and it made me think of what heroics Gareth was also capable of- those highgate horrors, and I wish just a little bit, that I had the chance to talk to him like an adult, and say thank you and sorry, because I would mean it this time.
Only now, lying in bed with B, our rotund bodies curved around each other, do I fully understand what Dale meant, when he said he felt safe with me. I have never felt this safe before in my life. Not because I'm a piss-weak little woman (though these days I am that too) but just because it's this velvety certainty, this knowledge, more than a feeling, of belonging.
and that ticket can burn a hole in my pants, I can wait till May...I might grumble much and sound ungrateful, but I'm not.

Chugging along day by day...