Looking at him, I wonder how I ever let him get away from me the first time. He’s a little bit silly, spontaneous, handsome, laid back, and just a little bit perfect. Just standing there, smoking his cigarette, he looks irresistible (and I’ve never had a puff of tobacco in my lifetime). I could inhale cigarette smoke all day now, just to close my eyes and think of his lips with a sly smile between hits of his cigarettes.

I remember my younger self and my ideas of love and affection. To be constantly together, always touching. Little did I know how exciting it would be to be in such close proximity to him, but to have to wait to pull him down into a passionate kiss. Sure, we may hold hands for a few minutes and kiss a few small kisses while entertaining his house guests, but the anticipation for the time to be spent alone is exhilarating.

To say that nobody has ever made me feel this way would be a flat out lie, but he is the only one who refused to let the passion fade away- even one inch. I feel a little warm all over my body thanks to the alcohol now flowing through my veins as I glance at him and again wonder how I ever let him go. It was the most smooth break up I’ve ever had to deal with; none of that childish drama. I wonder if it is because we knew we’d find a way to come back together, despite the great distance I decided to put between us.

But here we are again. Nothing official, for I can never stay in one place for too long, but boy, I’ve got to be honest with you. You’ve been the only one who’s come close to making me want to. I don’t know how to break the news to you that I’ve got togo soon, so I think I’ll enjoy this last night of booze, good company, and endless laughter. I’ll leave quietly with a kiss while you sleep. It’s like that cliche everyone says, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” I’ll be back some day, I’m sure of it, but don’t hold your breath.