This white plastic bag approaching like a ghost in the morning which is really still night...
quietly rustling ever closer in my peripheral vision I keep its position known.
As though....this bloody bag is alive and out to get me like I'm in some terrible horror film.
I laugh to myself knowing full well no one will hear.
It meanders out of view in the silence. Only the singing of birds and far off engines pierce it.
Then the milk man.
A phone rings in the distance ; who's calling before 4am!?..And why?
I think of the possibilities.
I breathe to see it rise through the cold. I'm still too warm from sleep to feel anything
cosy sat on the bench at the bus stop. waiting.
I never really thought you could want me like I want you.
Only in my dreams has it ever been true.
Enough. Enough of my foolish heart.
Was I ever anything other than convenient?
I hear the brakes of my bus stopping further down the road.
I shake off this wonderment. I shake off my thoughts of you-
at least for a little while.