They say age is just a number, and the memories proof you are old. And I’m still recalling things you said to me. Or, maybe not said directly, you used your mouth mostly for other activities.
In the dim of dawn light, I found my self as a version of teenage high school girl. Or maybe a freshman from college who wake up next to you. Innocence, yet so brave to do mature things. And you are a stranger who wakes up next to me. Tall and strong, yet so fragile when we were this close. We’ve been here for few days, with not much particular things to do. But there’s nothing more I wanted to do with you anyway.
Days like this should be put in our past. When we didn’t know each other, and busy with our sticky life. When we were young and hot and live the life with full curiosity. We were not afraid to do things we want to do. We crossed the boundaries and do everything on experimental basis. I believe you were slightly skinnier and my eyes have a lot more twinkles. We probably have the same skin tone, back and now. But, damn how we are proud of our appearances now.
When you slowly stroke my hair, and I unconsciously pretended nothing happened, I knew it. This was unregretful spontaneous things I want to have back then. And when we were facing each other, I knew it. This was the missing emotion I should have back then. The young adult woman’s feeling written literally in teenlits genre novels. So eager to explore and and not afraid to try anything. To fall gracefully in love and not ashamed to cry over a heartache.