The days pass swimmingly.

If it wasn’t for my sister and Father,

I would call this happiness.

My girlfriend glows brighter

than a supernova. She is clearly

content. The only downer is that

some idiot is tossing glass bottles

into our tiny backyard. They explode

like incendiary devices, around midnight.

We jump up, startled, curse the morons,

then snuggle deep in our duvet.

There is an element of black comedy,

I am beginning to think, in even

the most heartbreaking things.


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