there wouldn’t have been two misfits, finding happiness in old china.

I should have left you there when the fog wrapped around us and only the breaking waves reminded us of our mortality… but I embraced you, clutched love to me as dying men taste the sweetness of the air in their mouths.

If I had known how fragile we were- how cold and exposed this naked strip of sand would become when you closed your eyes and disappeared in the thickening fog, I never could have held you or loved you.

Perhaps it’s best I didn’t know- there wouldn’t have been tea and sandwiches and hands held across the table.

there wouldn’t have been two misfits finding happiness in old china.

there wouldn’t have been someone to hold me as I cried

I stood on the beach for a long time, watching the swirls of mist behind you, half-hoping you’d turn around and run back to me, half-hoping I’d forget you ever stood here with me.

But your footprints were right there, they still are, next to mine- but I’ve walked off the other way, and the fog has parted with time