Done and Dusted.

And at times, I miss you.

I miss how we stumble out of clubs,

Young, intoxicated, and didn’t give a fuck.

I miss the way you say goodbye.

I saw from your eyes,

I know sometimes you lie.

You’ve always fancied me,

You’ve always thought about kissing me.

I feigned ignorance,

I wanted to see your persistence.

You said to me you’re always honest,

But no —

Just this one,

You never would want bluntness.

Sometimes you held my hand,

And I know you wanted to hug.

I could hear you resisting your heart,

I wished you went with your gut.

There were many things strangely accurate.

You were right about me,

But never believed in us.

The number of times —

I bit my lips wishing

Instead it was yours.

The number of times —

You held me up,

Instead of holding me close.

Each time we denied our hearts

From every chance of never being apart.

And still sometimes, I miss you so so much.