When I was so in love with you. My head spins and the world shifts. And there is nothing but wrinkled sheets and bare feet and the aftermath of long quiet afternoons. Only now there are cats crying. Plumbing problems. Interventions (of all sort). I've started losing my accent and using punctuation. Ignoring the constant longing for small letters. Things left unsaid. When I was so in love with you you were a window that I always opened and closed. Found at the ends of my fingertips. When I wanted. It's how things go. Now you are here and there and the cat cries and eats and wants to come in and go out and we are closing all the windows up tight, on the house. I can see my breath, sometimes, in the early mornings. When you are real and I am too.