I tried to write down the things I didn’t do. There isn’t a sheet of paper in existence that’s long enough, so I scribbled my sins on an unfurled loo roll.
Two ply, using both sides.
From never being the one to instigate a kiss, to never springing for a bunch of flowers (well, only when I’d pissed you off), it was quite a list. But I’ll say this.
When I found streaky skids at the bottom of the bog, I never said a word. Just brushed those buggers right off.
If that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is.