She came first; she came gasping, she came hard. She came in through the front door, gasping and hard, she came into my life like a bomb going off just down the road. Yeah, the road trembles like a tongue in the midst of a lie, and fire snakes down the yellow line in the centre.

Before there was fire, there was a dream of warmth, but it had no shape no colour. And what is the colour, what is the shape, of fire? It is a living thing, a dance. 

Before we knew what we were talking about, we were still talking. We were typing before we knew what we were writing. We were being what we might grow up into, even before we knew we were growing. 

I saw what you were going to say, before you had words to say it. I could see it perched on the edges of your lips, on the rim of your parched throat, drained of liquids, drained of things to say.

I knew we were in love before I knew what love was. I just knew that being without you was something that hurt real bad.