Maybe We Aren’t Supposed To Ever Fully Let Go Of The Person We Loved First

Sophie Oatman
Sophie Oatman

I met a boy who looked like you today.
He had the same piercing blue eyes
and the same concentrated crinkle
in the center of his forehead when he spoke.

I asked my dad if that boy reminded him of you.
He said it didn’t cross his mind
and that’s when the lump in my throat
started to form like it always does when I remember.

This always seems to happen in the fall.
I see you in every new face I meet and
your ghost follows me wherever I turn
long after Halloween ends.

I used to believe that one day I would be able
to walk down the street where we first kissed
without feeling a thing.
Still, I always decide to take the long way home.

I used to believe that one day I would be able
to meet a boy with an ocean for eyes
and not think of how you loved me.
But here I am. Thinking of you.

It’s been three years.
You would think I could stop my brain
from signaling off alarm bells every time
I saw a skinny boy with a thing for brunettes.

It’s been three years yet
all I can ever see in my rearview mirror
is your smile when you looked at me
and your name forever written across my lips. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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