There was something about you – I think it was your eyes – that spoke to my soul in electric lines. We sat in the daisy rays of a cold April sun, on the grass banks of the Mersey, listening to the dirty percussion of the waves. I reached for your hand as the wind picked up a bassline and our fingers danced like we used to, right here. I tried to join the beat but brushed the wrong rhythm, and all the world fell flat, save for the memory of your smile, campaigning for a melody.
