In Reality
In reality, when I hugged you, you hugged me back but I just didn’t feel it. I had to go and when I told you, it struck dull ears. I collected my cigarette butts, put on my shoes and left. It’s midsummer and still warm outside. I left having hardly said good-bye.
In reality, I hoped that you’d follow me out onto the street and, after I’d walked one hundred steps, I realised that you had. You called my name and I heard it but kept going, not wanting to look back in case I was dreaming. You caught up with me quickly as I idled along the two am suburban streets.
In reality, you just took my hand and walked by my side for a while, before turning to walk backwards in front of me. Your black-brown-black hair wasn’t blowing in the breeze or any of that crap. It just lay still.
In reality, you slowed down so that we met in what would have been an embrace if we weren’t so clumsy as to try to keep walking face-to-face. I held you and this time I felt you hold me back and we kept trying to walk but couldn’t feel for the path.
In reality, I kissed you and it felt right-right-right-so-very-right. I could feel you smile beneath the kiss.
In reality, I knew that this was always going to happen but only now saw through all of the other crap in my way. I had a sense of you that I haven’t felt for a lifetime.