Our countertop will have coffee stains on it, but no one will ever drink coffee because we will keep each other wired with fast heart beats and quick playing chords of guitars and heart strings so soft that only a blind man could hear, unless it were anyone else that were you and me.
It is just how we live: making messes of things that we never knew could exist or did exist, and never picking it up because stumbling over it is the least of our concerns. We will live in love, without using any of the senses outside our fingertips and we will never know where we are, except that it is home and if either us ever needs to cross the street we will ask the butterfly outside the kitchen window to show us the way.
We will go to the grocery store and buy things that we will never need, except socks for our feet because we must be warm when we’re together especially while making the coffee every morning, because that is what will make our love poem.
