The cloudy streets of Edinburgh
Provided me with something
To help pass the time, empty promises.

I began to care for a boy, a stranger,
After a mere five minutes of conversation.
I laughed when I was supposed to,

And our arms brushed in the process.
I had forgotten that warmth could be
Supplied simply from sharing space.

I had been numbed, under-oxygenated,
Without human contact, in that way,
Since 2012. I guess it was all my doing,

Constantly catering myself with opportunities
That would account for nothing. And
Knowing deep down so. Yet, the naive,

Still childish part of me, thought it would be
Okay to allow myself this one fantasy.
I allowed myself to study his features,

Thinking that they may one day be described
In my poetry. I spoke to him on another
Two occasions, and allowed him the third,

But he never grasped it. I stood there,
On the Edinburgh streets, watching as he
Didn't watch me. Attempting to

Look approachable. Attempting to look happy.
Because I had promised myself that I wouldn't
Be the one to chase, each and every time.