He wanted to try and meet her
But he missed the last bus
He was there as it was going
It went around the corner shop\'s bend and into the roads gradual desent
Past the pharmacy and the park\'s red brick wall where fond memories of weekend love took first place
Now just an off-brown colour with oversized weeds embedded in the cracks
He thought it was poetic almost, like someone was trying to find meaning in the new day
\"Maybe it\'s reflecting how I’ll grow out of something beautiful. Or maybe it\'s just showing me how I\'m another body in a field of bodies.\"
The lamp posts and electric boxes humming at him and saying, \"Why are you even up at this time?\"
He must have turned his brain off
There was no way he was thinking straight.
Well any less straight than normal
He finally made it back
He found his way to his home
On the fifth floor of the warm and equally cold complex on the dark side of town
\"Not in a million years will I ever see her again.\"
And as he reached inside his left trouser pocket, he came to realise the unfortunate truth
He still hadn\'t sown the ripped seam of his pocket
The black thread came loose one night when he still remembered her body
No longer did he own her space, nor her universe, or even her face
Life was becoming a blessing and a curse
Because he missed the 11:30 Friday bus
\"And now it\'s over, she saw our end.\"
And someone he knew, a friend
He said \"she\'s found someone new anyway.
A replacement for her old boyfriend.\"
\"Great.\" He said, flatly, showing no signs of the affair
I mean who would care anyway?
I mean really think about, not one person even batted an eyelid when they sat together holding hands in the park, and long after it has gotten dark
\"Hopefully he\'s better than her last.\"
He knew he wanted it all to end but not like this
Maybe not today
At least he wanted them to stay together until next month
That way he could say he had a new record
He was never good with this whole space thing, you see, it just didn\'t come natural to him
Like an empty playground or an aesthetically pleasing atmosphere surrounding the base of a lamppost
It just isn\'t a possibility, well at least not in his space
Life was becoming a blessing and a curse
Because he missed the 11:30 Friday bus