What if I went out with her when she asked.
A drink between collegues. Talking about all the things that frustrate us.
Confessing things nobody else knows.
It could have brought us closer, could have made us friends.
I went home instead, opened a bottle of beer before trudging to bed-alone, as usual.
What if I had gone out with her when she asked.
A couple of drinks, dancing together like friends do. Declining advances from guys who think a pretty smile is enough to seduce a real lady.
Laughing, having fun.
I went home instead, put on my favourite cd before collapsing on the couch-alone, as usual.
What if I told her that night how much she affects me, crying on her shoulder, taking comfort in her embrace.
It might have made the desperate loneliness disappear.
Just brushed away the water threatening to spill from my eyes and turned to walk to my car before driving home, where I cried myself to sleep-alone, as usual.
Because I didn't.
Because I never do.