Sometimes I
just miss
that boy,
the one who held my hand walking down the
street,
whose arms I laid in and never wanted to go away,
the one who I talked to for hours and told pointless stories
to,
the one who knew everything about me and liked me anyway,
the one who knew exactly what I was saying even if I didn’t
and helped me
when I had no clue what to do, the one who showed me what love
was
and what it was like to need someone there, the one who could
only make me cry and hurt me like no other guy could, those eyes
that said everything, that sense of sarcasm that was always
there, the way even he couldn’t stop from falling in love,
that even though we fought constantly and couldn’t stand
each other we couldn’t leave each other’s sides.
Something is still there, something like your first love that
wasn’t ready to end,
something that makes your stomach flip at the brush of a hand or
arm,
something that makes it so much harder to know that he’s
not yours anymore but hers,
something that makes you want to hide away and cry all those
tears because
suddenly all of those memories come back and it hurts worse to
know --
that
it’s all out
of control.
