I wish I could forget the night we met. Maybe then I wouldn’t catch your eye when we run into each other on the street and remember the way they twinkled when you introduced yourself to me.
I still remember the sound of your laugh as we talked late into the night, the way it filled the atmosphere with something magical. I remember wondering how I could connect with someone so quickly, as if I’d known you my whole life and hadn’t just met you hours before. I still wonder if I’ll ever meet someone like that again.
I still remember the feel of your hands as you took mine in yours. You did it many times after that night, but it never compared to the first time, the way the heat from your fingertips seemed to spread throughout my whole body. It was like everything inside of me had come alive. I still crave that feeling.
I still remember the smell of your cologne as it flooded my senses. It clung to my shirt every time you pulled me close and made me feel safe, secure. I still freeze when I walk into a room and someone somewhere is wearing the exact same one. It takes me a minute to recover.
I still remember how you kissed me, soft, slow. I remember thinking, I don’t do this kind of thing. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t. Because that night, I had found something different, something rare. I had to hold onto it before it got away from me. I remember hoping that it never would. I still wish it never had.
And now every time I see you now I think of that night, that first hello, that first goodbye, that first kiss. Because now all we know are lasts, and it makes every single one hit me harder.
I wish I could forget the night we met. Because every time I try to let go, it just makes me want to start over again.