i imagined your kiss five hundred and seventy-six miles from home

 

the curve of his cheek

the shape of his smile

left side of his forehead,

glittered.

 

i noticed him earlier that day walking alone down Juliusstraße

later, my blues caught his dark coal

our eyes met near midnight,

in the queue for the squat-cum-club off Schulterblatt

‘Hallo. Ich heiße Lee'

‘Danke. Ich heiße Markus’

everything else thereafter,

felt.

 

though held his hand tight,

the gentlest press

kissed a Matthew never a Markus,

tonight could be a first

lost each other in techno smoke,

that kiss would have to wait 

though danced until 4am with another boy,

wished i was dancing with you back home 

and kissing lips mine long for, 

yours.