Last summer was a drunk fairytale

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.