Fragments

Flicking through it appeared. Cute smile, cheeky face. And the other one, the dangling jumper. What a dangling it was. The black leather sofa and the sweat and the noise. You were so fucking cute with your smooth skin and your pink lips. And we'll not go down below because it isn't fair on me to recall the immensity.  But it wasn't that, you made me laugh. Not like the pretentious tosspots one normally meets in this self-styled bohemian paradise. Individualism couldn't be more self concious if it tried. But not you. You were really warm.

So what happened? We went out on dates, we chatted, we had fun. Texts were sent like ping pong balls every day.  Did I come on too strong that last time? Was the sex so mind-blowingly good that it could never be repeated?  Walking back through Brighton that hot August night with a smile painted on my face and the vegetation dancing through my nose, did I realise that it was the ending, and not the beginning?

I didn't really notice it happening. Didn't realise how much I liked you. I can't remember if it was you or me. It just dripped away into nothingness. It didn't really bother me to be honest, just a bit of fun. I was too busy anyway. So I let it go. I forgot about it.

But I see the pictures by accident all these months later and I realise, I think, something. I'm not sure what. the laughter, the summer, the black sofa, the sweat, the taste of your tongue all came back to me in a moment, like a lightbulb flashing on for a second

Before turning back to darkness.