She's a Fleeting Fox

A year ago, I was with you. We were snug tight together in that hotel room bed, looking into each other's eyes...I thought I saw through you. I still wonder what you were thinking about when you were with me. Was it anything good? Did you feel anything at all? Perhaps not. Perhaps so.

I loved you from the first second I saw you in your blinding white shirt across the zoo. You sauntered over, head briefly down in nervousness, and my knees were shaking. Uncontrollably. That's how I felt the entire day--out of control. I wanted so much from you. You wanted some from me. You were so damn grabby and flirtatious! So....that must've meant you loved me? Right? If you felt nothing for me, those feelings would've never came about. But you still tried to hide it. Like you were afraid. 

I can never let myself let that memory fade. I would never forgive myself if I did. Each time it crosses my mind, a part of me feels a bit more whole...and a little bit more sad. 

I still wonder if you think about it, like I do.