Below the willow treeI get hung up on my insecurities
Rose-coloured dopamine
My soul feels like it could be make believeBelow the willow tree
I search to find some sense of identity
This weeping willow tree
Sits in silence, sheds no tears for me
Last night on a walk I saw the moon with Mars and I knew they wanted privacy, a rare coupling that I haven't seen for a while and I'm not cuckold and so I turned back in the cold, crunching through the brown leaves all the way back to the house where the warm lights beckoned me home.
We did go LED to save energy, money and effort in changing bulbs all the time. It was an ice-cold light and so everything was changed to warm. It took a while and I am still finding fixtures that were missed.
You're looking up cuckold because you haven't seen that word in a while, aren't you? You don't care about my lights or the planets or my crunchy-leaves walk.
Ah, she admitted it.
It's holdover teenage curiosity, that's all. You see someone and you stop and watch and rarely will you move until it ends, someone catches you, or you risk being seen by them.
That was me and Mars. I turned away first.