my name isn't your's.

stood on the steps, cold concrete beneath my feet. leaned against the support and watched him ride away. saw him turn, light winking on his bike frame. he moved out of view and I went inside and buried myself in happenstance.
where do we go when we leave each others' sight? who tells us where to go? I've started watching him as much as I possibly can. how does he know when I'm looking? how does he know to open his eyes?
he calls me "lovely" all the time. he calls me sir and says I'm pretty. I think he's pretty too.
I mumble things into his chest that sound like "mmbhbmm" and he mimics them back to me. my brain is forming the words even if my lips don't. I can't say it though. I feel it and won't let myself say it because he has to say it first.
and it hasn't been that long since we started this, anyway.
and it hasn't been that long since I gave myself up to never meeting someone like him.
and it hasn't been that long since I watched him ride away. An hour. one hour.

and I couldn't think of anything to say.
two hours. backdated.
let's pass the time.
I can do this, and I can do it without melancholy.