Someone once said that the world is a different place for the broken-hearted.

Growing up I hadn’t thought love could be this well hid. That love could have so many different facets. That it could be embodied by many with a wide verity of expiry dates. And whilst I always had a hard time truly enjoying the almost lovers, the almost relationships or the almost affairs, there is a sort of love that is better to be left untouched. To be left in the heat of a stolen glance in a crowded place or at the very bottom of an unfinished Whiskey Sour.

There is a sort of love that is simply not appropriate because it’s come too late, it’s at the wrong place or it feels too familiar. It hides dark alleyway kisses behind cheap excuses.

It makes you curious beyond compare.