Listening to that now old song.

Feeling the warm summer breeze.

Tasting the starlight in my hair.

Feeling the tenderness on my skin, that never came.

Remembering that last night I played anyone’s expectations game and we both lost.

Seeing you again, that last time, leaning over the wall, looking into the banana plantation, those trees I wanted to climb.

Your lustful looks at me linger on in my mind.

And I am still never truly gone.

-//////-

Nothing ever truly makes sense or has to. The joy is in what happened and what was imagined.

It leaves us with a taste of closeness and longing.