Said the man who’s been my lover before he walked out of my sight into the train station. It was my last night in the city I was happy to leave; it was our last kiss, our last lovelorn looks. I held him so tightly without saying a word but I think he might have heard it. My heart, I think it was beating too loud for my own good that night.
We gave each other a smile and that was it.
Because, you know, we’re mature, realistic people.
I remember this one night when I was sitting in his living room, tracing my eyes on him as if I had a pencil and he was my subject. He sits there in his underwear, with his guitar, singing a song about an old love who couldn’t keep him for long. Some people would see a red flag; all I saw was an inclination that I would continue to desire him.
I guess that’s me. The more tragic the better.
I wonder if it was just good chemistry; I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t left; I wonder if what we had was tangible, accountable, even. I wonder why I’m still wondering. I wonder if he wonders....
In the end, I’m a sensible, practical kind of girl. So I continue to be just as quiet when I’m away from him as I was when I first met him.
Of course I have fantasies of my romantic notions working out in my favor.