About getting what you always used to want
Sometimes it’s the little things like how he held his arms out, unprovoked, for that first hug, the one you’ve been waiting for, if you’re honest with yourself, for years, and, if you’re honest, you should have been the one reaching, the one with more beers, the one with less inhibitions. Yet it was he who reached forward first, and though it was small and weak, and without a spark, it was still the thing that you’ve wanted since you heard he wasn’t gone forever, since you found that you had so many similarities. And the next time, too, it was by his initiation, though this time you called him on the weakness, the coldness, the stiffness of his body against yours, and (the alcohol talking?) demanded something warmer, closer, more intimate. Demanded a future of (maybe not intimacy) but closeness, a friendship that you’ve always wanted (though to be honest, you wanted more.)
