The first time we met, I found you in your tiny apartment in Seattle. You weren’t as tall as I would have hoped, but your handsome face made up for it. I wanted so badly to kiss you, but somehow I resisted. Instead, all my lips touched that night was something that brought me higher than the sky. I felt such at ease there, just sitting and talking with you, but the clock struck midnight and I knew I had to take that lonely drive home.

That lonely drive was one which I would soon memorize, I knew every turn and once I made my way over that big hill, I knew it wouldn’t be long until I got to kiss you. No matter how cold the night was, we would find a way to stay warm under the covers. I began to memorize your touch, your kiss, your eyes.

By the time I stepped foot out of your apartment I was already eager for the next time I would be back. Our late nights quickly became part of life’s routine, but it never became a bore. With each day came more passion. With each night grew an addiction inside of me. There was always an ache inside of my whenever a night came when I couldn’t see you.

It has been over a year now since I’ve seen you, now. I try my best not to think of you too often. I don’t want to think about how I moved away from that rainy state, nor do I want to think about who you’re kissing instead of me. Once, someone asked me if I had loved you and I didn’t want to think about it so I quickly said, “No.”

“You would’ve loved him if he had loved you,” was their response.

It is still hard to think about you now, so you remain at the back of my head, at the back of my heart. You are always there, lingering, reminding me of what no man will ever compare to.

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