They sat under a tree. The leaves were falling. In another country they’d call it fall, but it was really just windy. Good windy, not the gusty type that got sand into your eyes; just that cool calm one that washed over a person’s face. The one that brought a strange type of hope with it.
I didn’t care initially, until you loudly ordered for the coldest bottle of Star they had in stock, to the laughter of your friends who had all ordered cocktails. I turned. The lift of your eyebrows at me confirmed you were the beer drinker.
Every time I think of how good you were to me when I needed you, I want to beg you to come back but I’m just going to pick what’s left of my dignity and walk alone from here. Some days, I think we are still friends, I still love you very much and care for you; other days, I send the memories to hell.
I remember our first kiss. Thank God for truth or dare. I remember how our ‘minute’ was a lot longer than usual. I remember the stolen kiss by the kitchen door frame. I remember slow dancing with you and the kiss that followed. Your knees buckled and I forgot how to breathe.
I stared into her eyes as we sat on the floor of the living room, I knew I was going to throw caution to the wind and end up dating a feminist. I leaned in and kissed her, she kissed back for about 30 seconds and pulled away.
A special poem dedicated to an unborn child or is a lover? Read this story along with the soundtrack for a special experience.