Naïveté played its part, when you almost took my heart.
I was flattered that an older man found something in me.
I heard the gossip, heard the remarks, but, our friendship was to last.
I so naively thought.
The fact that you were married, and I was just 18, meant nothing.
The fact that you were an authoritative figure, also meant little.
We were friends.
But, married men soon need to make a decision
Family or friends?
I loved talking to you, I loved your uniform, I loved our secret.
The way we'd talk all night, your car parked outside my home.
The way I'd come to the old Victorian station, and share a cup of tea.
The way you told me things that you said you couldn't share with her.
The tour of the old holding cells. Eyes lingering on the mattresses.
The kiss you gave me whilst on duty, the blush we shared.
Less than 10 years stood in our way, and a wife.
Then, the crushing blow that she was pregnant, due that snow.
Was I a distraction? From coming to terms with fatherhood?
One last fling, before that ring bit deep on your finger?
I told you no. You transferred. I alone endured the village gossip.
Secrets like ours are doomed before they start,
you were another's.
The ring on your finger played a part in my never giving you my heart