You're going to fall in love with a girl with hair a little loner than mine, another writer-type with all sorts of ideas about things but perhaps a little less aggressive about them, you're going to kiss her in the ways I taught you and you're going to figure out some new ways too and when the two of you have sex, she will be just a little bit better at it than I ever have been.
You're going to fall in love with a girl that smells good enough you bury your face in the curve of her neck and her tummy will never growl like mine always did. She'll be deep and mysterious but she won't come with the heavy past sitting on her shoulders. She won't ever keep you awake with worry. She'll always text you back and never bite too hard and never act in a way she can't explain later. She will not cry when she gets drunk she'll just fall asleep beside you. You'll fight with her sometimes because all couples fight but it won't be with the teeth and claws that we had, it will be almost gentle, it will be over before it really gets going.
You're going to love her until you're no longer really sure if what we had was all that special. You'll start bad mouthing me to all your friends. You'll forget about me in most moments and eventually you won't even be able to tell someone what our first date was or our kiss it even if you fucked me the last time that we spoke. I'll just be gone to you, just a memory of a memory, a girl with dark eyes, a half-capable poet, some word on your tongue you're longer sure of but you remember that you used to know it. I will no longer be important.
