When I think of her,
I travel back to the age
of precisely 14. Five years
pathetic from my current
life place, but I almost can't
help myself. Almost.

After all this time, it's not
you I don't trust. Really. I'd
be able to admit that. But it's
her. It's the thought and feeling
of knowing she once danced across
your skin, breathed you in and held
you so close like I desperately do.

I never want to lose this. Never want
to lose you, in my arms and I in yours.
It's inconsequential, but then again,
so were a lot of things.