I knew him.
Above all, I need you to understand that.

I knew him, his every crook and premise. I knew-know what his embrace feels like, how to wrap my arms around him, how he'll put his arms tight right above the end of my spine.

He kissed my forehead and I knew.

At night, the way he touched me was familiar.
That's the touch that I will know for a lifetime.

He'd never look me eye to eye when he was upset.
He'd rather spill his sadness to the ground, allowing it and only it to look back into the depth of his sadness.

He'd place his head above my own and let out a breath hitched in the back of his throat when he was tired.

When he was happy, he didn't need to smile or laugh and talk about it. I knew. His eyes were all the clue I needed.

I knew him. I knew him before friendly touches switched lanes, I met him when we were both too ignorant to know how our roads would intertwine and part, part on the mistake of my behalf.

I knew him. Well.

And it's been years now, years away from him, but I still know, and now she does too.

I need you to understand that.
But above all, I need you to understand,
I'm trying to learn you just as well.

*And eventually, I might. I might.