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Frequent Flyer.


Some moments are for shares, some to feed the ego, but cherishable ones are those I long to feel over and over before they have come to pass.

With the people I deep heartedly know will not grow with me to banter the reminisces of, those are what I miss the most. Not in the way of sadness; but the sigh-filled, straight arm supporting a clipped hand under my chin in mid-day dream.

When I think of those who short-term came and went, they pitch a tent in the sharpest corner of my heart. But only certain ones. I have never felt so unsettled about never feeling that one again.

Everything was so easy and so thoughtlessly spewed. Not a second thought at expressing what was initially on your heart: “I have a huge crush on you.”

Something so innocently conveyed as if it was an actual secret while our bodies emulated like that of the wackiest puzzle pieces in your squeaky cot in the corner of the mansion’s master bedroom.

The simplest of gestures were so swooning. The way your arms were a ladle to my standing body and carried me up the windy stair case unexpectedly, the thoughtless act of propping my swollen limb with a cold compress the moment I entered.

The way “my girl” just cascaded from hour lips to those inquisitive.

The way you blushed revealing my contact name in your phone.

The way you tilted your head slightly, gazing and scanning my entire face in that bubble bath filled with dish soap and men’s body wash.

Every adventure together, to be a new episode of our “How the Frick Did I Get Here?” sitcom.

The silliness in our chick fil a date night in that hotel away from it all.

Pulling me by the hand through perspectives of my home town like I had otherwise never have reason to.

The dramatics of our last goodbye, were hopeful to be anything but that.

Yet a hope for change of stubbornness. A willingness to chance what your heart yearns.

The March towards your wish to friendship, quickly to be overshadowed by the strong stubbornness that denied attempted outreach during an alleged intoxication.

After three weeks, I awaited a little vulnerability but never held my breath at the thought. I prayed for better.

“For the mistake was mine, and I had this time to re-evaluate”

but you are right, it’s ....

My bad, I should not have wrote this either.


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