THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
You tease me about my tears. They come too easily, come too often, come in public. You are often the cause, which you know.
You tell me about the film you're working on at the moment and you pause and say, 'I think it will be good... I think I've have you in tears by the end.'
I roll my eyes, 'Why do you always want to make me cry?'
You smile, speak softly. 'I meant in a good way.'