blue blue blue london

my phone starts a familiar buzz as i walk to the train station, it means you're here and you wanna talk to me.

crossing london bridge, all the dream statues are real, all the tiny buildings, all the people. the blue of tower bridge and the battleship. it's all real and i am real and i am walking through it.

you're drunk on whiskey after an afternoon of sifting through trash with your best friend. i love you.

and as i cross the bridge, looking at the way the clouds are coloured by the lights below,

"we're gonna get married, aren't we?" you say, with that little easy growl in your voice.

"yep, i think so"

blue blue blue london 10pm, friday night, january.