On the surface, it all seems so copacetic.

Although I don't want to admit it I miss you, the thought of you, those days where we fucked for hours and still had energy to cuddle and talk in an entanglement of my blankets. It was a beautiful illuminating summer and all I could want was in my arms, warm, and breathing. I was excited to enter that chapter with you: that world we could never return from. Part of me still thinks you're there, memory trapped in those bright dewy days and steamy showers together and how you reached to clean that one place on my back I never could.

How you wanted to hide but I wanted to see, how difficult you made it for me to see. But I decided no I knew it was worth it. Strangely I would go back to that time, not to prevent but to advise. I'd tell myself to look closely, to breathe in your scent over and over and draw lines on your back where you always denied.

I'd tell myself to allow the feverish months to come and go and to accept life. All because it forever changed me and how special it is to see that change and grow with it, grow out of you.

I remember my wet back on my tee shirt, feet jammed into sneakers slapping against concrete and venturing downtown. I remember your wet hair, how your products smelled, the clean in my nose and your curtains. I remember walking back home everytime with a stupid smile on my face.

I even remember the days it hurt.

I know I would go back to then or given the chance accept you again. Just to feel it. Just to feel something: pure love. I wonder if I'll feel it again. No one could judge for that time, they would never come close in their lives to something similar.

I didn't blink when it ended, when we parted. I only slept, then awoke and forgot. I had no longing passing thought and I'm sure that was careless but I allowed it because I didn't care. I wish I cared. I wish I could tell my mom about you, I wish the world was different and things were simpler and I wish you listened. Partly I wish I listened too.

It was never fast feelings.

That's okay, that's what made it so good, so special.

I denied myself the thought of you afterwards, got over it too quickly presumably while you wept and wished for things to change. For the world to swallow itself whole and spit itself out again. For a rebirth of a beginning that can never be replicated. I denied myself pen and paper, not even an ounce dedicated to you. I deemed you unworthy whilst I dreamt of your legs and your scalp and my fingertips. While I remembered your spit and mine and the scent in the air afterwards and hair. I remember cold walls and cheeks and crying out together because we felt so safe and vulnerable. Curled feet intermingled and your whole weight on me and how comfortable it felt. How.

I remember pure innocence and the unique blossoming of feelings and my shitty attempts to impress you. I remember the weed and your anxiety and how I never saw such a side of you quite like that before. I remember your coolness and the smoke flavoured like coke or mint or whatever.

I can't keep on with this I want to forget. I want to hate you completely but I won't and Ill hope you won't hate me entirely too and Ill hope you message me again someday, just to see what we might say. And I want it to be just us again.

I want to be selfish.