It wasn't a crush, as such.
Not really much.
More of an in-and-out-and-about
Pouting, rolling down grassy slopes, giggling
Double-Dutch-skipping laugh of a relationship.
Someone to touch.
Someone to be with.
Someone to kiss with.
Someone to reminisce with.
Licking chocolate smears off the other's lips.
Playful nips on the neck and one hot punnet of chips on a Friday to share.
Eating Cadbury's bars on cold street corners
Under orange street lights on the night of a good day.
Yeah:
Companionship, really.
Wearing the same scarf to ward off the winter air and drinking a (ginger) beer.
Home near after a school-day walk.
Clear skies. Purple and brown eyes.
Pavement chalk doodles and smiling.
Not any fear.
Not really dedication: just sensation.
Tasting the wide world with tongues of liquorice and caramel hearts.
Chocolate milk moustaches, huddled on the stairs.
Human teddy-bears.
Picnics indoors eating pears and posing for the other's camera.
Gummy-worm mistletoe and Christmastime in April
Because they couldn't wait.
...
It didn't last.
It faded. Wicked grins on windy days, but slightly more jaded.
Crowds of people and not able to pick each other out.
Shouting nonsense and not understanding the shout.
Landing with a thump on the plane of a College reality.
One kicked out of the care home and given normality.
Frailty. Callousness. Cavities in sweetness.
Labelled 'homosexuality'.
Lasting a year.
...
When they later met
As men
One had forgotten,
The other disremembered.
Houses to Let in their hearts again.
One had gone purple-suited, high-heel-booted white-teeth smile.
The other, business suits and paperwork to file.
Shoes walked backwards a mile from each other.
Unable to comprehend the other.
...
Two winters later and a factory close,
Willy Wonka gave up on Anthony Prodnose.