I really love this woman. Just got home from The Brooklyn Bowl where she took my heart and infected it with tiny micro-bacteria called "a good time". Incase you were wondering, I was the weirdo by the brick corner, who nodded his head slightly along with you but mainly just stared at a tigress, a living, full-blooded, growling tigress. A bottle of Jameson by her ankles and two flowers carelessly hanging from her hair, as she played the harmonium--air never sounded so sweet; and sweet never sounded so bitter, while bitter never punched like that before--and a punch never felt like a kiss until tonight.
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