I still think of you from time to time.
and how I, damning but hilariously, always mistook that we met in a university re-education class. The one I was prescribed when I got busted with ****.
...we were lab partners. I guess. I couldn’t recall. You insist. But we did that dance five or six times til I finally remembered.
and you laughed because, ****.
but from sixteen til I met you, Forrest,
I was with a young man who would treat me in ways I’d much like to forget.
so when I could, I did and, with that, forgot the context of you: the boy that I shouldn’t be talking to —
let alone enjoy time with, in the lab you insist we were in. I believe you.
What I could be sure of, were the eyes you’d let me practice looking in while, handsome, I had fun with you, and easy. Though I was clearly unfamiliar with the intimacy.
and that was ever that and that was fine, but I remember.
Oh, and later. I’d meet another guy, and that guy would teach me some things the hard way, but, and this is what I think of, Forrest:
I think of the time I found Bones in an alley, and I learned you lived right around the corner with your friends and dog Bones. I returned him, not without noticing the dampness of your shirt and your... carelessness. But without knowing even to look, for the fullness of the iris of those eyes I couldn’t look in this time. I left abruptly, uncomfortable, and misunderstanding.
Then, always next is the time that we waved and you ran up to meet me. Your body had changed. The dampness, and this time I knew with what, the hard way. The pinpoint of light allowed into your eyes. I wonder why I felt bewildered. When I think of you, from time to time, I think of that crush — the one you knew that I had, and that day when you, sweating, asked me out on that date I declined.
I think how I wish I could tell you I liked you — I like you. I wish that I would have done more. I think of that time and that girl who‘d have loved you and wonder if you would still be here, or if you were always ill-fated, to taking the hard way out.