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.