What would I do, if I saw you now. Across the street, or in a café, or…anywhere. Act surprised, like I wasn't looking. We'd both know that was a lie. But I won't see you, which is why I'm able to say these things, think these things. It's the middle of summer. Sweat is pouring down my body from the heat, but nothing compels me but the need to write these thoughts, these feelings.
What would I do, if I saw you? Stare from a distance until you felt it. Smile. Stumble over to you, because all I can do is stumble, at least compared to you. Walk those last few steps, the hardest ones, the ones that linger forever in my memory. Casually sling an arm over your shoulder. Press the length of my body as close to you as I dare. Smile again, sheepishly but mischieviously. Bow my head, allowing my hair to fall over my eyes. Wait a few moments. Brush it away as though it weren't intentional. Try and meet your gaze again. You would push me away at this point, I suppose.
And if the least bit of your bare skin happened to touch mine…that touch would last the week.