You were my guilty pleasure. The one whose attention I craved more than anyone else’s.
It was only an exchange of glances and a few empty words.
We were nothing more than a quick, hot encounter. It only took you seconds to set everything inside me on fire.
It took you less, however, to put it out.
You’re not the person I can ever imagine falling in love with. You’re not the person I can have long, deep talks with.
You’re not the person I stay up all night thinking about. But the excitement of seeing your face or name, to be frank, is unparalleled. You’re not my forever person.
You’re my for now person. We both knew and still know. It was a silent agreement, nothing more than a constant craving for attention from a stranger who knows nothing about us but our facade of mystery.
It was lust.
From beginning to end. The kind of adrenaline you get from doing something for the first time without even doing it.
Just the idea of you was enough to tingle all my senses.
Those sort of encounters are time-bound, though. The second they happen, they become chained to a time sand vessel whose fate is only to run out eventually.
I let you be who you wanted to pretend to be because I used you for the same purpose. You were an escape from the usual.
You tried to shatter all limits, but being the person I am – you reached a dead-end.
Instead of giving me the pleasure of a continued challenge, you gave up.
You gave up before the sand ran out. Because so it turns out, your insecurities lied much deeper than mine did. Just when I thought you were the perfect getaway of unconventional flirtationships, you revealed all your flaws at once.
I accept it though because I’m human first before being your object of entertainment.
“You’re a kid.”
That’s how you put out a blazing, lustful fire.
Thank you for putting it out before it burned me. For that, I’m forever grateful.
And thank you for reminding me how reckless I can be with my heart sometimes.
Dear never was and never will be,
You’re a kid too, for thinking you would get me as a prize.
One day, we’ll meet as adults. We’ll probably exchange a few glances and empty words, and I hope I’ll have a reason to say: “you’ve grown so much”.
Your never was and never will be.