Night time, when we were dancing to a cacophony  accompanied by the distinct voice of Frank Sinatra, the rapping of my high heels across a wooden floor as you spun me around, an intoxicated giggle and slurred “I love yous” and I did love you, the person you were in that moment, as we unsteadily held each other. The yellow lights and your sandy hair and the bitter wine and the city alive, but our singular hearts beating in unison for once made me feel the way I thought I was supposed to and it was beautiful and we were beautiful in that
moment
In time.
That moment in time where you cried because there were 52 things that I loved about you, clearly displayed,and I thought for a moment that you might get it, that you might change but, not surprisingly, to my dismay you went back to your ways and my sock fell off again.