love fades from black to white

by Paul Kavanagh

kiss me. desire expires. love me. tomorrow it rains. open the window. it was around six when they both simultaneously opened their eyes to the first rays of light that surreptitiously seeped through the clouds and their faded curtains, they woke to the exasperating twitter of birds and the sporadic coughing of a car that was suffering from some perplexing malady, they understood how it felt, there was an affinity between them, while this cacophony filled their senses they struggled into an embrace and shared their ephemeral, limited carnal knowledge, they decided - without acumen - to work it out, start all over again, a fresh start, forget about the night before, just silly puerile disagreements, put it down to the cheap wine and the inebriated state that they mistakenly found themselves in and the ambiance of the night; it was a strange night.

6S

Paul Kavanagh was born in England in 1971. He is happy. His wife is happy. Together they are happy. His book, everybody is interested in pigeons, has found a home at 40ft and so too is happy.