A Happy Little Boy

I am still surrounded.

Surrounded to still be sitting here listening to the same song, smoking the same cigarette.

I have very little regrets, but you make the most of them.

It is about the wide space in me I left open for you, and you very lightly left for disappointments.

Nothing special about anything, except for the context and the little kindness-es you’ve sparkled over life on occasions.

It tore my heart every time I had to leave and you gave me permission.

“I am sorry honey; do I have a reason to not seek another?”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Selfish, self-centered, trapped little boy.

I could’ve made you the happiest, if only you knew how to let yourself in me.

I could’ve made you the realist, if only you recognized all the faults in your logic.

Naive little boy.

I am gone, I am so gone. But you still make me nervous, like all the hairs in my body waiting for a smile.

Did you need to follow me to the end of the world to show me our love then tell me you don’t want it?

Cold nights, chill nights and summer nights.

Across a globe that’s ever so little.

Over your awkwardness touching me although I knew it is the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

Why am I still here thinking about you? In a dimension of everything that never happened, and you letting me down at every dip.

Tell me darling, do you still think of me as the one you couldn’t have?

I wish I could find it in me to wish the little boy with wraps around his head, happiness.