it's about remembering. you were my first love after all.
the after school bus, middle school, that's where we met. you eighth grade, me sixth. you apologized for your friend because he bumped into me, the rest is history.
high school we meet again, after school bus. i see you look at me through the bus drivers mirror, i try not to look too, the rest is history. but we talk again, closer than before, older than before.
exchanging numbers, good morning and good night texts, birthday presents, confiding in each other about the past and the current day, late night walks. oh, the late night walks.
side my side through our dark neighborhood and through the trail, underneath the streetlight. your hand on my shoulder, the other pointing to the sky trying to get me to see the constellations, i was looking at you the entire time.
oh, my first love how you've taught me what love really feels like.