I remember being offered the same bed. It was a joke amongst friends, amongst friends who'd already heard my heart flutter when I'd brought you along for quiet drinks in the kitchen. You couldn't sleep without a smoke you said after everyone had gone to bed.
In the summer air I joined you outside, turning down the cigarette when you offered. Something about the summer haze made it only natural why I'd followed you out in the early hours.
We used to talk about our lives and our feelings and the flitting of people through them. I recall the grass being wet as you paced, insisting you were holding on for something better and it was coming, you just didn't know when.
Last year in that morning dusk all I recall is the content quiet, the improbable, the quiet of the garden as your company became the volume. This was never love, this was a collection of moments that put the bird calls in the day. Placed us in orbit around the sun. Made days feel like days and nights feel like night.
(Early fondness)
Within a year we weren't speaking but this is a fond thought.
Share your heartbreaks.
