"How's the weather outside?" is a question I want to forget how to answer right. Since from where I reside, the outside is nothing but a backdrop to your eyes. Lost in the threads of our twinning sweaters, I don't know where you start and I end. Warm until we're frozen in time, how can the weather outside be anything other than you and I, beautiful, and beautifully intertwined? Oh but it's snowing outside? That can't be right. Last time I checked it was hot on my side of the bed with your body pressed against mine, so how can it possibly be snowing? How can there possibly be war, poverty, pain and loathing anywhere if you and I are just fine and the boundaries of anywhere end at our outline? Lost in a trip between the gap of our firing irises, I want to forget about the outside and speak only of what's inside because there, my girl, is where forever lies.
Rainy With a Chance of Love by Thomas Baruzzi is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.