Never become, Never Leave

The urge is coming to fuck-it-all-up, to walk away. Like most things it starts small, a word. Like a verb. Wish, wreck, run. Then after more time, it turns into a string. Unwinding out hours worth of play.

Creating background static started in your lengthened absence. Initially impervious by a coating of your skin on mine, now washed away. Five baths, skin shaved twice.

Ideas not necessarily substantiated. Just second guessing really. My insecurity begins to operate. Continuing life as if you don't exist. An error in action? I end up at Prague bar, as usual. Drinking a lot, as usual; with the comfortable and friendly. The boy that pronounced himself rude and modern, my dear friend. Swimming in booze, laughing at each other, we are joined, a double date? We move to a restaurant, girl boy opposite girl boy. She is watching.

He does like you, but you know.
Yes, I do.
He is not enough.
But he’s lovely?!
Yes, he is.
Then there’s the unsaid sentence.
What are you doing, what about the another?
I’m scared he’s been totally washed away. (I don’t say this)

The pairs pair off and we walk home until the point of our separation. Attaching my lights to my bike I feel he’s watching me, I still like that. We kissed on the mouth, not planned, slightly open. And we both moved away, happily. I don’t look back.

How are we meant to feel about the ones that never become but never leave.