You never forget the first great one,
the first great man to walk into your life and love you back..
I get these butterflies, almost like I’m going to be sick. I don’t even think it’s about our love anymore- not the countless nights in each other’s arms, the love letters, the roadtrips and the way your skin felt against mine first thing in the morning.
The way my mother loved you- that time my father gave you his wedding tuxedo. The son he never had. I hope he feels that way about anyone else ever again. It was beautiful.
The butterflies rush in when I remember at all of the time I lost being sick and disappearing into myself.
I said I’d always love you but that’s not quite true, it’s not quite untrue though either.
You aren’t even relevant but you keep sneaking into my mind; into my conversations and I can’t help it.
I keep waiting for you to feel like old news.
I wonder if that’s really going to happen.