We wandered the streets as if it was one of those intense heat waves during the summer months. As if, there hadn’t been rain for another entire winter. As if, the warmth of our bodies really was enough to keep us from freezing to death. Our beer-infused minds collided as we walked anywhere and everywhere, before finally heading back towards your place.
The night lasted forever.
We talked about everything. Your family, my family. Your friends, our surprising mutual ones. We went on our phones and found our favorite blog posts online, and laughed for ages sat in that depressed old bus stop telling each other jokes. Then it turned into our favorite novels. And then our favorite films.
We were in love for a night.
We saw everything. We saw each other clearly through our alcoholic haze. We saw the kindred spirits within us. I could see your everything. Your hair, your self consciousness, your cute-as-freaking-hell dimples when you grinned at the floor, trying to cover your mouth. Other late night revelers wandered past and could see our warmth on the dank London streets we treaded. And when we looked up the moon was shining on us. We had this ghostly glow of fascination with each other. We were white hot from lust and kissed endlessly against uncountable garden walls.
And when we had to ask for directions, we asked a man who was homeless. He joined us. He asked us about the new Beyoncé album, which he said he hadn’t heard, and so we sang it to him. We sang to him all kinds of new songs he couldn’t have known from his years on the streets. He meandered with us, too. Drunk on our love, drunk on our happiness. We were happy as a threesome. He told us his story of losing his wife and job. About becoming destitute and living on the streets. I stroked his back as he cried a little about the time he was held at knife point. When it came time for him to find his way back, I gave him a tenner.
The night went on and on. It lasted forever and ended too quickly. Our passion was felt everywhere by everyone we met on our way home. We were in love and lust and it was too short.
It’s nights like these that I cherish. That even when you yearn for them after they finish, you are happy they are over to remember them in their perfect vial of time. They come infrequently, and out of no where. And this is why life is worth living to me. It throws us uncountable times of joy and pain, love and hurt. And these memories are forever with you. In our hearts and in our minds.