Carettarius

Sat in Glasgow, George Square. I told you I was psychic, I know you and know we are fated. I guessed right the birthdays of the people passing in the night and we joined in with your laughter. They labelled you a god of hell and I mocked their insinuation. Your friend was fair and doing cupids work with honest and deep intentions. That night was Joy, like you, held up by slow promise and a connection worthy of a pact with Satan. We went from one more kiss and messages of promise. Nicknames of love. We went from passionate want to you giving me not one shot at the best for us both. Sat in Glasgow, pick any chair. I will always be waited.