Even now

February 16, 2009

The opening notes sounded, and without warning, I could hear you playing, the guitar resting on your torn cutoff jeans, your t-shirt loose on your wiry frame.

“He could still break my heart, even now,” I told someone the other day. And it’s true. Every word of it.

No matter how old I get, I will never forget the crinkles at the corner of your eyes, the speed of your pulse just after I kissed you, and how my body shook, uncontrollably, when I knew it was finally over.

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