Sometimes, I think of the way things used to be.
Our whispered promises in the dark, the rose tinted
haze of love amidst our drunken teenage years.
I wonder if you ever think of me.
If the thought of me send you into a wave of panic,
sick to the stomach at what had been, what could’ve been.
If you ever wonder how I am,
If you ever remember the shade of my eyes following yours,
the feeling of our bodies together.
I wonder if you let yourself think
about the taste of whiskey on eachothers breath,
the way your hand would fit mine.
Sometimes, I imagine what I would say to you now,
when I saw you on the street, or hovered over your name.
I think of the way things could have been,
if we would still be in love,
if we were ever meant to be?