I can see us. There, lying in your messy bed, pillows under our heads, looking silently the roof, me looking silently at you. Searching for your cold hand, hiding in some part of your hairy, darkened chest. Wrapping my legs around your firm body. That familiar taste on your lips.
I can see us in your room. The TV is on, there’s a football match you can’t miss. Your excitement, your screams, the way you jump out of the bed, your happiness when you ask me for another beer to celebrate. I take three with me so I don’t have to leave your side.