A relationship is a series of compromises.
What happens when you forget who you might be if you were alone?
Where does we end and you begin?
Oh the glory of being a we fades fast in unknown cities. The I and the you have so similar an agenda. The folly.
AH, and not to forget the mild mild winter of a place that's never quite cold enough to warrant staying in, never quite warm enough to spend the night out-
It's that hovering that slows you down, one foot on either side of the doorway, procrastinating decisions till spring, when new things are born. Maybe decisions will bloom clearly and without apology like the seeds you're going to plant in the morning.
My winter:
