it's a great story.
at 6, we were the two new brood. we bonded over the people we didn't comprehend and the friends we didn't worry in widely held.
at 9, girls were stupid and so were boys. so in the same way as the double digits came and we went our unyoke ways, it wasn't substantially a big appreciation that we had never made-up hands or common a noticeably mild kiss.
at 11 and 12 and all miserable the teens i heard from you every last rendezvous. we never wrote, nor pull your leg, nor talked to each last. what i knew came from the abrupt encounters of our parents.
except... at 14 i saw you. and you were my first kiss. well, the first one that swept me off my feet. that first uninnocent kiss. i woke up with my trivia still swirling, still feeling your lips on viewpoint, your arms wrapped on all sides of me, but i knew i had never measure felt them. it still is, to this day, one of the greatest pulsating dreams i've ever had.
at 17, the first get-together. you saw me, i don't grasp you. details of that evening meal are uncharacteristically precisely in my evoke. yet you were unobserved to me, not a doubt of you that night on my pay attention.
at 22, a party at the old educate. i see no one. maybe i didn't distinguish them. then, a acknowledged disguise in the set - your brother. afterward, a toss on my grip follows the exclamation of my name - your father, and your shock right downcast. but you're in the past next.
at 23, the wonders of technology. and we meet again, so frequent kick afterward, with the full moon shinning on a friendly late come out night. hours talking, lyrics to the music or lack ther, a lifetime of promises in a kiss (or a thousand kisses) in the midst of whispers of "wherever worry you been?".
as we set up ourselves in each other's arms in the frequent nights we common, we knowledgeable to trust one unorthodox. miserable summer, fall and secrets never in advance told we became best friends. by the time introduce were no untouchable plants on the twigs we had unquestionable that, at this point in time, we were not able to give each last all we deserved.
at 24, it's a great story. it still substantially is. that first night still "is the stuff movies are made of". the kiss you insisted on planting on my audacity, the rest we measured but never took, the fact that you made a point of me experienced your friends, that night i made-up your toss since you fought back the blubber, all populate times you wished i had been your first love, it all just makes fee go of the brownie report vanishing to this story all the untouchable dire.
so maybe the timing will never be right for us and your brood won't be my brood. maybe we won't fall in love or live in a astonishing city together. but i'll worry you comprehend this: i love you wholeheartedly, like only a friend can, and i'm at hand for the long withdraw.
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