In these situations my mind turns to thoughts of signage.

I will print posters for you, each one depicting you and I in attitudes of great Second World War romances.

I will purchase vinyl stickers graphically designed, in which your name and mine spiral into one another.

I will obtain for you consumer durables (a DVD player will alway prove my love to you) as a symbol of my love’s built in obsolescence.

I will leave you alone in the rain, or, more likely given current climactic conditions, the snow.

I will cause you no end of torment, but I will do it with a smile, and occasionally I will kiss the quiet spaces at the back of your neck.

I will make you hate me, need me, desire me above all things. I will make you curse my name.

Occasionally I will say you words of such sweetness, the breath will catch in your lungs and for a few moments you will feel suspended in time.

Much more frequently, I will say you words of anger, rejection. The only things I will never say to you will be words of indifference.

And this will be our time. Yours and mine, as we argue and pout and kiss and transcend throughout our days, or months, or years, depending on how luckily we roll the dice.

One day, for certain, one of us will leave the other. It could happen a long time before any physical parting. A slow withdrawal into sardonic silence. Or it could happen of a sudden, one morning as the winter snows melt, one of us will simply walk out of the door for the final time leaving silences and memories.

I do not care how this will end. I do not care when this will end. I hardly even care if it ends.

For right now, it is happening.

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