Whirlwinds

These things don’t happen on a Monday night in London, in the light of a kebab’s shop neon glow.

Great romances don’t begin with sick covered hands, is that a promising start, what would I know? When it’s been years since something like this happened to me, Now I don’t know how to respond in reality...

These things don’t happen like this, I should just go home and sleep these memories into a dream, I’m not so naive as to expect some kind of Romeo and Juliet but surely this can’t be what it seems.

It’s been years since something like this happened to me, now I don’t know how to respond in reality...

These whirlwinds happened all the time when I was young. I’m searching maybe I’m not the only one.

But how can it be now?

How can it be her?

How can it be him?

Life has faded into processes and payments, I’ve grown impatient waiting for more.

Life has dulled and I suppose I let it, is this strange night really an open door?

Life has shown that what we dream is rarely what we get, years have passed since I last knew what to expect.

These whirlwinds happened all the time when I was young. I am searching maybe I'm not the only one. I’m tired of burning myself out, I’ve turned away from now/love

But how can it be now?

How can it be her?

How can it be him?