Sometimes for insight, I'll read back through my previous writings. I like to recall where certain situations started, the drama I felt within that moment, and then gain perspective from the present. A certain situation I recently read about hasn't offered me much growth, only a bit of distance.
I was hit with the bittersweet pang of nostalgia and wanted to share this particular unsent letter:
Last week when everybody left
and I gave you a ride home,
your hand brushed mine -
though you kept it light.
My mind wandered
and I could barely keep my cool.
I said nothing in response to your small talk and
kept my breathing steady.
But when I looked over
and glimpsed your smile,
the flashbacks of what we could've been
replayed in my mind -
my fantasies of you and I together
laughing, dancing, loving, sexing
ugh, you had no idea.
you just kept us in reality.
Because you've already got a girl
and would do her no wrong,
and I don't want to intrude,
but I want you know that I wish you would've waited for me.
In the midst of your small talk you mentioned one thing that stuck in my head.
You said, "You and me - we're too late."
too late.
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