It was grey today.
Grey from morning to night. Grey inside and out.
I strolled home from work amid the rainfall, with Sara Melson and her saccharine lyrics in my earphones. Words sung unrestrained, clichéd almost, like any other love song, but with an experienced maturity nonetheless.
Now my hands are worn, my clothes are torn
A few of my dreams have been met with scorn
And I don’t have too much time left to borrow
But still I’m gonna love you like I’ve never been hurt before
Drawn to her voice more than her face, sugary sweet mixed with a hint of strength. Guilty pleasure? Maybe. Not that I mind anymore.
But it was still grey today, and I was still undecided.