I hate taking walks in south ken

I hate taking walks in south ken,

But since you’re here 

I’ll go

The golden sunset projected on your hair like a layer of veil 

How I wish to be the wind 

So I can have a reason to tickle your cheeks 

Your cheeks, 

Your warm, rough, scratchy cheeks 

There was a moment when I hope we would never make it to the tube station 

Your face and mine gradually overlapped and then separated 

Your shadow went from clear to fuzzy and then disappeared 

The two of us, back to back, 

Walking and then sinking into the time 

It’s not that I have nothing to say to you 

I just crammed each word into a clay pot that was only allowed to be opened late at night 

Or sometimes I just don’t open it at all 

I hate taking walks in south ken, 

But since you’re here, 

I go 

I want to get married with you and I want to press down the rest of our lives 

In my dirty, dingy, tiny apartment 

On my single bed that always makes that quirky noise