“It’s like my eyes are open, and I’m really living,” I said.
“And we’re closer than I ever could have imagined,” I said.

We were on my front porch, drinking glasses of red wine. And you, you with your green, green eyes.

“I’ve always been in love with your smile,” I said.
“And I’m not thinking clearly any longer,” I said.

We were lying on our backs together, on your bed. And you, you with your eyes like stars.

“For the first time in my life, I don’t feel so completely alone,” I said.
“And for the first time in my life, something feels like it’s meant to be,” I said.

And now look at you. You’re sitting alone on the steps outside your house. You’re sitting alone with your beautiful eyes, our beautiful ideas, our empty wine glasses and your empty words.

It’s that feeling like swimming at night. Or like seeing a friend you haven’t seen for years. But not quite nostalgia. It’s similar to the night that you snuck out with friends and it lasted a year. And you’re tired and exhausted and alive. And there’s some amount of poetry in that the surreal almost dream-like feeling you’ve got will end soon and the reality of that comes crashing down on you. But for some reason it’s still not real enough to break the feeling. The “wonderful, terrible” feeling that you have. It’s a little like falling in love. That feeling?

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