You were the enterprise of my frontier,
expanding wide, new sliding glass doors in front of my eyes like the grand opening to the gates of an
uncharted section of heaven,
Our friendship affected me more than
I have ever managed to convey,
I felt like after groping around in a dark clutter of disorientation, I touched your hand and you held mine in yours for a most enriching, painfully fleeting while,
And every slicing moment dissolved ever-faster the present into the past; time was not the lingering pleasant man with face nose-deep into that rosebush
but he was that scurrying monkey suit hurdling brashly through conceptual space as if always in a rush.
Like clockwork the moment your hand gave mine that enticing squeeze--that little implied promise of adorational reciprocity and affirmation--it just as suddenly loosed its grip altogether and dropped away.
You were the most profound "What If" I'll never gain the self-preservation and willpower to forget, and in my most dire moments of no sense of direction,
my weak coddling infant of an ego will cling to that most desirous notion of romantic ambiguity,
And for that, I shan't ever truly let go of my idea of what could have been,
under alternative circumstances and more suitable factors on both parties' parts,
because I still trust that the girl I was at sixteen new
what it was she was feeling
when she basked in the wealth produced in her admiration of you.
You were the first real name scribbled on the metaphysical list of my fancies,
And I can't manage to forget so.