Spare slippers

My ceiling looks so bare. Clean and bare.

The lonely lampshade casts its pitiful shadow across a small section whilst the rest... is bare.

Not like my floor. The warm tones of the antique-effect wood tell a lie that is uncovered once your bare foot dares to tread on its deceiving and inviting surface.

So lay here with me, teach me how to paint great stories of love everlasting and cotton candy clouds on the blank canvas of my ceiling.

But if the scope of your imagination and depth of your desires can't and won't allow you that...

... I have a spare pair of slippers you can wear when you come here.