Would you mind, just please, moving over a wee bit?
Because my head is crowded enough as it is without you being a constant presence.
What’s it like being alone?
The feeling has been forgotten.
Wherever I go, regardless of where you are, I talk to you without meaning to.
Walking from the train to my flat, I regale you with easy-to-understand instructions.
A witty comment, a stupid observation, a knowing look – all directed at the You and Us in my head.
Whenever I catch myself talking to you, I stop.
I force myself to do something, anything else but hold fanciful In-Your-Dreams conversations with you.
I don’t even know why I like you so much. You aren’t worth it – you don’t deserve it.
But here we go, another post with the tag ‘UK’.
Maybe I do just enjoy the idea of you…
And is it so bad for me to be glad that you’re leaving for home this week? To welcome the thought that it really will never happen because you aren’t in the same country, much less same city.