I think I see you in the stands in the Wales jersey: the one with the signature red sleeves and a dragon as the emblem of our will in the Euros.
You weren't even here when they released it,
I wonder if my name is behind it.
Of course I don't go and check- that'd be too embarrassing for me.
I see you right there- in the first ten rows, watching us train while looking around the stadium- the stadium that you are awfully unfamiliar with.
I would only stare at you when you look away.
Of course I sneaked away from the boss' eyes, just to see whose name you have on the back, and Joe says I'm so distracted-
Do you still use that jasmine perfume?
Fuck.
Gareth just hit me with a ball-
Not on purpose, or so I think.
I don't even bother to hit him back, because I'm so infatuated with the thought of you just sitting there so close to me and quite possibly supporting me during the match.
I don't even want to retreat back into the tunnels for final preparations because all I want to prepare for is the encourage to talk to you.
And I know once I head back inside, I'll lose the sight of you amongst the thousands of fans rushing into the stadium to support Wales.
As soon as I heard Gareth's third beckoning, I ran inside- of course, after sneaking another look at you and I think-
We made eye contact.
I go ahead and go in, lingering that I didn't have to. I wish I could even sit on the bench, and I think I heard Joe saying something about Aaron and the bench so I reckon I will take it up- to see you.
And I do: I sit on the bench for the match, and they go on. I spend the first half trying to find you again and in the 53rd minute- I finally see you.
Like an angel in the crowd, just without the halo. But I reckon I saw one above your head, just like that night when I was blasting on a high fever and you sang me a Welsh lullaby; the hard effort at trying to mumble the right sounds to create harmonization. I know I went to sleep in your arms like that and right now, I only hope I could sit here forever and look at you like this.
I know that I didn't go unnoticed by you, because I caught you looking at me (or hopefully me) and I wish I could come over there and hold you.
It's already the 80th minute; I've stared at you for thousands of seconds by now and I think you sense that too because you walk out of the stadium and I am hindered by my assistant coach who refuses to let me run-
Especially to run after you.
I shrug him off and I know the lads are giving me all types of weird looks and even both Joes are bloody irritated, and Gareth kind of wants to hit me with more than just a ball at this point, but I could care less.
And I run and run and run,
Almost in roundabouts around the stadium,
Holding railings and trying not to pant or panic too much.
Then I see a hint of your hair, wavering in the air.
I run quicker; I hope I don't hit a ditch on concrete-
And oh dear, you know my luck.
My left hand reaches for your shoulder-
"Sorry" was the only thing that could come out of my mouth.
//
I'm sorry I left you guys on a cliff
but I hope you enjoy this cliff :)
tell me how you're all finding this please please please
x