(no subject)
You fit into me.
Like a hook in an eye.
A fish hook. An open eye.
Quite the splendid love poem, isn't it? It reeks of failed marriage, angry exes, and sadistic/masochistic significant others. Not my cup of coffee, but what can I say, it's got a nice ring to it. It's kind of disconcerting, though, when the creepy landlord on the floor above you leaves it with a dying potted plant in front of your door.
Ten hours of sleep, four cups of decaffeinated tea, and cookies for brunch. Does anyone want to humor this grump by going on a stroll through the park? I've got to get the dog (and myself) some fresh air.