To you, I was always first.
Even though your past history told me otherwise,
I should have absorbed every little moment,
When I was your number one.

Today, I am your second.
Your third,
Perhaps not even a number, but a distant memory.

I wish I had savored those few days,
Like slowly savoring a melting piece of chocolate on a lifeless tongue.
One, two, three, taste bud absorbing the flavors of your rainbow.

I promise it would have been worthwhile.
I would have stayed with you till the end,
Washing away in your swallow.

To me, you’re still my first.
A number, a memory, a taste, a flavor, a rainbow.
You’re my second, my third, my fourth,
My all.

I cross my fingers, hoping, wishing, praying that one-day,
I’ll cross your mind,
I’ll flutter down softly on your tongue,
Your taste buds questioning,
The memories returning.

Maybe one day, I’ll fit perfectly in your equation of numbers.