I Don’t Want To Hold Your Hand (bp coyle)

It feels so funny to be back in London after all these years, to be walking down Oxford Street again. The last time I was here you were with me. It was a few days before Christmas and bitterly cold.

The festive lights were on everywhere and choirs were singing carols every few yards, collecting money for charity. The smell of chestnuts roasting in the air was.. atmospheric if not exactly appetizing. A child in front of us was jumping up and down with excitement and you smiled at me and took my hand.

All so long ago.

It hasn’t changed much, a few new shops, a few shops gone. It looks very different in summer though, in the sweltering heat. And you’re not here beside me. We haven’t seen each other since we had that falling out.

I feel happy, despite the temperature, the lack of air. Happy to be back in London. Happy I am alone.

If you were to wander along out of the blue, I most certainly won’t hold your hand. In fact if my hand was to accidentally brush against yours I think I would chop it off.

Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash
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