all i can figure is it's better than flowers. the soft. the scent. the intangible thing not easily cut and stored. nothing you could take a photo of. capture in a video and cue off your hard drive. to burn to a shiny disc that spins.

my partner is brilliant. he whispers over cocktail hour and the stupid petty conversations we have with people we'd rather not be talking to at that moment. at any moment. at this precise long night stupid rain soaked tired too much cheap white wrinkle your nose up wine drinking one. she says it with skin.

tired winking glances over glasses and knock-off perfume and the unforgettable way we fill spaces with the sound of the way no one ever understands a single thing we say. stuffed with full hands into pockets filled with shredded tissues and gum wrappers collecting bits of tobacco. to hold onto. for later.