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You're my favorite color w4m It's been just over a month since the last day we saw each other, except for that time I drove past you.
Three times.
I had to make sure it was you. I just had to see your face, your glasses, your lips... I wanted to pull over and beg for you to come with me, to run away with me to a place where seniors searching flirt cheating japanese women nobody would bother us. Instead I went home and cried all day.
I want you to know...
I miss you, every day. You're the first thing I think about in the morning, and the last thing I think about at night.
I wear your shirt almost every night. When I'm not wearing it, it is right next to me. Sorry you never got it back. I know you loved it. Things just ended so suddenly.
And you must know, however it was I came across that day when I said to stop what you were doing, I did mean it. And part of me is sure you knew it, but you were too angry to care.
You knew how tired and out of it I was that day from the events from the night before. (Which, by the way, didn't give you reason to believe I was cheating. From the day I met you, all other men ceased to exist. Even the one I was pursuing at the time. I told you this time and time again, and it's always been true. For me, since the very day we met, it's always been you.)
My anger, my fear, and my feelings of humiliation and embarrassment over what happened have subsided. I wish I could go back in time and change things so you would have never crossed that line, however unintentional crossing it was.
We were together for such a short time.
I found a tape of my roommate's with a recording of you talking and playing guitar on it. I listen to it every day.
I promised to write you and be there even if only over the if/when you went back to that far away land, remember? That promise is still there and always will be.
I've tried to forget you and get you off my mind in every way possible since you left. All I succeed in is remembering how perfect your hands feel, how strong your arms are, how much I loved scratching your head.
I'm pretty drunk while I write this (big surprise, Huh Shane? I know you probably are right now too.) But I found a song that makes me think of you. I listen to it on repeat. It's Cannonball by Damien Rice.......
"There’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
There’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
It’s still a little hard to say what's going on
There’s still a little bit of your ghost your witness
There’s still a little bit of your face i haven't kissed"
"There’s still a little bit of your song in my ear
There’s still a little bit of your words i long to hear"

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