The days we call

epilogue

I knew i wasn’t going to be anything to you.
that day when i first laid eyes on you,i didn’t know you,you were a friend of a friend of a friend.
for a few tempting seconds i wished you’d look up from your book and see me seeing you and i wished,wordlessly,that you liked what you saw.
it never happened.
we exchanged polite greetings and goodbyes,i stayed on my phone,but totally on my own twisted musings.

and as the minutes passed,i had to settle in with the knowledge that we were not going to talk.the music was too loud.i couldn’t understand how you could read.
my own mortality seemed to have taken a toll.there i was,sitting,with people i didn’t know much and the realization that i wasn’t charming ,for if i were,i could have started a conversation by then.

And i remember saying goodbye and i remember how much taller i was compared to you and i remember feeling like shit.like the fact that i didnt get to talk to you,that i never would,it was stabbing at me.

and i made up a whole life time of scenarios for you,in a blink of an eye,which is a weird thing my anxiety ridden brain is an expert at,and suddenly i was jealous of this random shadow that you would marry in the future and have babies with and sleep at night holding,someone who got to kiss you and express love towards you.

it made me sad.

So you can imagine my panic when i went home and saw the numbers appearing on my chest.

because i felt the fates were laughing at me.

i had met a shit load of people,any of them could have been the one,but i only thought of you.

and i was too drunk to notice what had appeared was not a number.