a boring sunday
a lazy sunday
one of those sundays that you only hear your breath,
and your fingers tapping compulsively on the keyboard,
and your pen scratching the paper,
and one of those sundays that the sun rays outside look like they're melting the freshly mowed lawn,
and your head starts hurting a bit because it looks so hot from your cozy bed,
but when you open the window an ice cold breeze bursts inside.
and it's such a boring sunday i didn't think i'd write today
i don't write skillfully today
but i had to write about this.
even though it's just a sunday; none's birthday, none's anniversary, no reason to celebrate, not even nice weather outside.
at this dull sunday
my father took my mum on a spontaneous date at a cinema.
i guess, that is, what i choose to define as love.