For three days, we were arguing. We were arguing about us, about what we want.
You were mad. I was confused and mad. We were both frustrated. Above all, I cannot remember…
I remember the last time I saw you. But I cannot remember the last time we kissed… or even what it was like to kiss you, to be between your arms, to hold your hand.
I cannot remember and it hurts.
It hurts that we were arguing over us, about us, when all I could remember was you standing behind that gate as I walked away to head back home. All I could remember was you smiling at me whenever I woke up next to you. All I could remember was what you made me feel the first night you took me out, as if there was a knot or butterflies in my stomach. But I can’t even remember the rest.
I can’t remember the last time you hugged me and what it felt like. I can’t remember the last time we kissed or how it felt. I can’t remember how it feels to hold your hand, to be next to you. Trying to remember hurts me too much. It is sad. Painful.
Because I didn’t think the last time would be the last time. Because I thought there would be more times. I thought there would be more days to stay in your embrace. I thought there would be more nights to spend with you, within your arms. I thought there would be more days with you and more chances to kiss you and hug you, or even to at least just hold your hand. Maybe even just to stand or sit next to you in quiet while a movie is playing or while we were watching your sports.
I wish I knew that it was the last time. I wish I knew.