I could fall in love with you in a moment, just like the first time. I could change my whole schedule just hoping to run into you again, just like the first time. I could write pretty words forlornly mourning my lack of impetus, just like the first time.
But in the end you would not look back at me with those shining eyes. You would not write back to me the next day. You would not ask for me to meet you again.
Because I have lost you, perhaps I never really had you.
When I look back I start to see how little time you made for me, how you asked to go home that day, after only an hour.
I cried you know? Wondering how to extinguish the burning pain which begged for you to respond to me. I cried, and yet I still didn’t see.
I came that day bearing a gift, like I always did. Thinking to make you happy, thinking that you would cherish me as I cherished your every word.
I walked that day, I walked far. Down the wooded trails where we held hands as we talked. I couldn’t manage to eat the candy I bought for you. By the end I thought of throwing it away, but I couldn’t: it reminded me of you.
I wrote you paragraphs, you responded with sentences. I cried for days, I wonder if you shed a single tear.
You were kind. You were smart. You were mine.
And after all I’ve been through, I know I would take you back. I would take you back and let it all happen to me again, because you let me be myself.