I Still Think About My First Love

I fcked up. I shouldn't have made a peep... Instead, I unleashed what I'd successfully hidden long ago. I thought it was long gone.

I love the memory of him. I no longer know who he is, only that he's now fully immersed in his ego.

What is it I'm seeking, old times when we'd hang out? A flare of endorphins as he touches my cheek and holds my gaze? The way he says my name, as if it tastes sweet?

As someone insecure and shy, I loved his confidence and attitude of not caring about anything other than himself. It radiated from him, an intoxicating energy.
He made me feel beautiful. Like I was a painting that he wanted to admire... I, an aesthetic to his senses. A moment that would be forever frozen in time.

Maybe that's what I want. I want him to look at me as if it's only the two of us again. And he wants me to see him as a prince. Which I do. And unfortunately I always will.

It felt so right. I need him. I think I love him still.
It's been six years and I've never recovered I guess.


No one understands. But I know I don't have to prove my feelings.