you called me the other day, to ask for your textbooks back.
it got me thinking, you know.
i remembered the first time you said hello to me in the Starbucks on 4th street.
the way your ring finger and pinky curled as you waved to me.
it was november 7th.
i didn't see you again until after thanksgiving break.
we had a creative writing class together.
professor calhoon.
he told us that if we were to work together, we would be two of the greatest writers to ever study at Reed.
our first date was december 15th.
we went ice skating and drank horchata.
it had began to snow as you walked me home, where i didn't let you kiss me.
it's been a year and a half and i still remember the way you laughed when i rejected your lips.
you seemed to have no flaws for the first three weeks.
you were perfect to me.
i think i liked they way you made my problems feel. as if they were just a speck on the road map of my life. and just because everything seemed to focus on the moment in time, they weren't as big as i perceived them to be.
you told me you liked the way i bit my lip when i was deep in thought.
when you came to pick up your books i bit my lip to see if you would ask what's wrong. but you didn't. please don't think i'm crazy but i know she doesn't understand you the way i did or the way i do.
i see the way you interact with her in public or when she tries to hold your hand on the train and you refuse. i see the way she gets upset when your deep in thought. do you tell her everything is going to be okay? like how you used to tell me that? when you say that, what do you actually mean? do you mean that when you walk out my door you won't catch the feelings i caught on november 7th?
or maybe you're talking to her about yourself. and saying that everything will be okay with you.
i don't know why i'm pouring my every thought about since i saw you last into your voice mail.
you don't even have to call back or maybe i just called to say i want my textbooks back.