Talk, talk and talk some more

The man I love is the best listener. His ears are strong pillars of our relationship. I can talk to him for hours.
We listend to the swanlake yesterday and I was mentally unloading and emotionally oversharing on our tiny broken coutch.
In my defence: I did not cry and he prompted it.

He asked me:

What are you worried about? Those five little words spell Pandora's box with a handful of hormones, and he knew.

Worries are the evil twin of daydreams I have come to believe.

I should not take them seriously.