The second one.

My second love ate my first.

And I’ve always assumed that I’m supposed to feel bad about that.

I get bored these days. It’s been awhile. And what do I always revisit? That second one.

Because it got tied up before anything messy happened. It never became unwashed dishes, dueling families, pregnancy tests, or anything less than pure.

We never had a chance to hurt each other.

That was the best thing about you. About us. There was only love. We didn’t even have to be compatible. It didn’t go as deep as love could go, but it went as far as it needed to.

We protected each other. I miss whatever that space was. That life. Laughing at it all. And the rest of it... being young.

I can’t go back. But it’s enough to have known it. Our world. Being us. I could write about you forever.

I don’t even want to say more, because it is not for anyone else.

I hope you visit it too.