I guess it's over.
Water has spilled all over our ink
and now our words are blurry.
Unreadable.
Unfixable.

But what do you care?
You were the one who tipped
the glass over.

I bet you like the shape of my lips.
---I bet you want to taste them.
I bet you like the freckels that trail down my chest.
---I bet you want to connect them with your tounge.
I bet you like the way my hair falls to the middle of my back.
---I bet you want to trial your fingertips through it.

I bet you would never do those things.
I bet you are afraid of what might happen.

I bet I am more afraid of what might happen.
I bet I would hide my body from you.
I bet I would run.

I bet you wouldnt chase after me.

Falling in love the first time is easy,
you don't understand the risk.
It's like,
learning how to swim as a child,
you're unaware that you're unafraid of the unknown.
Once you're an adult, and understand the concept of how to swim,
and the possibility of drowning,
you realize,
it's terrifying.

I'd heard horror stories in the playground, seen embarrassment and tears.
Shared in secrets that were passed around like candy.

Not for me.
All the messing about and the working it out. I didn't want Bad *** by misadventure.

Like you said.

I waited. Not as long as the good girls, but longer than my mates.

You were worth it.

I was a bundle of nerve endings and inexperience but it was perfect, you were brilliant.
Just the thought of you sends shivers down my spine.

My best kept secret.

I wonder about you, at times. About your life, what you do, if you're happy or feeling blue.

Your children: Would I know them in the street? I guess now they're all grown up.

Just like me.