Just being realistic when you tell me I look really beautiful tonight
Though I stepped closer when you put your hand on my hip while we giggled earlier in the day
I know this is just chit-chat, polite exchange of familiarity that comes with being adults and children all at once – we are allowed.
Again, when you ask me, what do you think, pointing to your hair, and when I can breathe without laughing, I say
Actually, I quite like it – though I’m strange like that
And you stop, cock your head to the side the way I’ve noticed you do, and say
You are strange – by the way, did I tell you, you’re looking really beautiful today
And I finger the lace overlay of my hem between nail-polished fingers that are the same as they were naked and punching buttons on the Playstation the day before
And smile, I say
Thank you
And smile politely, because that’s what adults who are really children do
And we’re only just playing dress-up
Right?
And then I get on the dancefloor and do the silly dance because I really don’t care what anyone thinks, even you – but then I’m hoping you’ll still think I’m beautiful later
And you do (but it’s not quite real)
Dusk had fallen and you’re shiny-eyed in the courtyard when I pass, saying goodbyes
I’m going now
No you’re not
I laugh, saying
Yes, I am – they’re waiting for me
You say
Stay
I say
I can’t
You say
Stay, and have another drink with me
And I smile, because that’s what polite adults do
And you come over, hug me, and pulling away, say
You really are looking beautiful, you know
And one more time, I say
Thank you
Because I’m the realistic one
And we’re just playing games that adults play, adults who are children, really.

As I walk away, I wonder, what if
If you meant what you said, and everything implied
Is this the first time I’ve been realistic
And missed out on reality?