Another letter to the man who is not my lover

Even though it'd dark, there's a daft bird singing outside when it should be sleeping, as should I.


I'm glad you came to chat this evening. My colleagues appreciated meeting someone who once lived in the amazing place we work. To us it's an office, to you it was home as it is to all those people who cannot live independently. You humoured those young people and befriended them. I love that about you.

We mumble words of need and apology. Apology for what has been said and wonder what to do with them.

I wish I had 24 hours with you: To talk, hang out, figure out whatever this is or isn't. Work the fantasy out of our systems...

You are careless with your affection. Paying me a little too much attention, whilst telling me it might just be easier if you'd never said anything. I can only agree. It's fine for you. You get to go home to a partner, a friend and I return to reruns of old soaps and a bottle of wine. You ask if it would be easier you ignore me, That is just as suspicious as paying me too much attention. It's also disrespectful of our friendship. I tell you 'you are my friend first and foremost', and that's how I will treat you.

I just wish we had a time and space away from it all just to talk, to sort through the mire that is unfulfilled longing.

I don't need anything from you, other than some kind of resolution. Even if that resolution is that your words are disloyal, misplaced, regretted. I just can't continue as is. Seeing you with her pains every part of me and I need to move on, and it's only with your help that that's going to happen.

What do we do?

I miss you too.