I’ve already drawn it in my head.
We’ll be doing everything the way it should be:
You’re my perfect hipster dream.
We’ll go get ice cream bars, and stroll down the Gardens, watching the dancing lights, while you catch me smiling – filtered in black and white.
You’ll wear khaki better than I would, and we’ll bicker about the shade of blue I’m wearing.
I’ll pull you to watch stage plays, that you’ll end up enjoying, and when we’re hungry, we’ll eat under the stars, shoulder to shoulder when the cold wind brushes past.
We’ll sing to each other unconsciously when we’re passing each other by, up and down the hallways.
Your button-ups and my canvas kicks will go together well; yellow and blue, it will be perfect.
Just keep smiling, you don’t have to say anything. I’ll watch you the way I watch the sunset – with unending adoration.
I keep playing the xx tracks when I think of you. And maybe there’s more to deltas and badly-hued sepia tones. Maybe there’s more.