infatuation.

I saw you again. Unexpected. The first time in a long time. Four years after the last time. I thought you had left the city; found a new life abroad, yet there you were in the same space that somehow I have occupied alone again in the last eight years. I dismissed it just as quickly as you appeared, but the reminder, found me back wondering on the possibility of a forgotten friendship, laced perhaps with a quiet desire, of something more for the first time in a long time.

A long time.

You have always appeared in the shifting of the seasons, when time turns the tide. Our paths cross as projections perhaps destined only to meet once every rotation. Yet there is a familiarity within the unfamiliarity of it all of a life shared and spent together. I wonder if we are in the same space, drifters carrying an equal load, or if your life was happier than I last recalled yours to be. Perhaps if I had been healthier, things would be different. Perhaps if by happenstance, our circles drew closer, I would know everything that is to know of you and you of me. Yet we remain strangers, perhaps fearful still of all the things that make me keep my distance.

Sometimes I wonder what could have been, yet I am reminded why it never was. I am grateful to you. For the moments we crossed and shared. For every moment to come where we cross again. You are a reminder, constant, of the spaces I no longer wish or will to occupy, and for the stories I will continue to tell but never live. I thank you dear light, for your patience, and for recognizing me long after I have forgotten you, and for reminding me, of the joy I once found from you, and the dinner parties we never had.