but i mean this love isn’t silly but it also really is. it’s gross and cheesy and i could write stupid sonnets about how much i love you and i’d mean all of them, every single one. but it’s also a cave of warmth and rainfall sounds. it’s sunlight shining through a dusty window and it’s familiar piano chords and the feeling of just having taken a drink of something hard, like whiskey or gin, and the fire is running down your throat until it stops at your stomach and it just sits there. it’s running through town until you can’t run anymore and adrenaline makes the coughing from running too much fine. just fine.