You were my first.
You were my longest, real thing.
I don't know why I didn't open myself up to you more.
I remember when you told me you "weren't looking for anything".
But, that you still enjoyed my company and cared about me more than most people.
This happened when you lost your job.
You were outside, exchanging words with some sort of boss.
I looked out at this through your window, shivering, naked.
I knew it wasn't good.
I got up, put my clothes on, and walked to my car.
You immediately saw me and followed.
I got in, you got in.
You asked me to come back inside, that it was cold and we could lay in bed and forget whatever was happening.
I didn't go back inside.
I went to see someone else, someone I shouldn't have.
I told you I was going home.
I lied.
I wish I would have stayed with you.
Maybe things would be different now.
Maybe things wouldn't be different now.
It was a hard time for you.
The anniversary of your mother's suicide, the loss of your job.
You were in no shape for me, I know.
And I didn't even know I loved you until it all ended.