Mandy

I'm looking for you in every picture of that night.

looking for you on the train to work

In the crowds pouring into my pores and ears and senses at every corner in London town

Where is your face?

Vanished like the air we shared that night were you not real?

Are you a body somewhere in this city and others get to accidentally smell you as they move past and know for sure that you're a solid thing while I search?

Not a whisper

Not a notion

A thing with flaws

Do they get to see the imperfections I was looking forward to

No fair.

Too many faces are not yours and can't live up to it, it's not their fault but I can't love any other face now I've seen yours.

So what's a girl to do

She stops the search

She reads a book

For a time I'll relocate to some other world created with words on a page and then back to the real life I'd forged before I was treated to a little glimpse of that other-worldly moment we shared.

As real as a scent in the wind

Would it have ended with a sour taste once our tempers found clashed each other open?

Or could it have been a beating boundless thing

Would we have grown

Never to know.