Right person wrong time
I always seem to fantasize about the same thing.
Every night when my head hits the pillow.
I'm older, more confident. Taller even.
I bump into you in town, just mooching around. Probably window shopping cause I can never make rent on time.
We bump shoulders. I turn and apologize politely and you recognize me. You'll have to remind me your name because you remember I'm bad with faces but I need no reminder.
Those eyes, the direct mirror to my own soul.
You'll say, "oh my God, how have you been?" And I'll smile and say, "I've been doing good. It's good to see you" and we exchange new numbers.
A week goes by and you reach out wanting to catch up over coffee.
I'll go.
Pretending I'm not searching your hands for a ring.
You catch me doing so but you don't mention it.
We hug goodbye.
I'd like to sit and think that it would progress.
Two kids in a farm house. The whole picket white fence. The real American dream. But even my dreams are realistic these days.
They know it'll fizzle out, the same way it did before.
Copyright © Georgia Curson | Year Posted 2026
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