Wherever we went, whatever we did, there was always
A girl to distract me from whatever else was there.
Somehow, I have never quite grown out of that:
Being back here is like I’ve never been away,
And neither have they.

I wonder if he notices them too, or if he exists in
Blissful ignorance of all the smiles that will
Never be for him, of all the faces that will
Only ever regard him with disdain.

Perhaps he is sensible enough merely to register
Their existence as other humans, and not let them
Lodge themselves unwittingly in his memory.

When he looks back on this place in years to come,
I hope that he will recall the beautiful curves
Of the coastlines, and of the hills only just inland,
And not the dismissive face of some girl
Who would never appreciate him anyway.

Being back here is like I’ve never been away, and
Yet so much is new to me: everything my
Childish myopia kept firmly out of my sight
Because there was always a girl to ignore me.

08/13/2014

Posted on 09/17/2014
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