i still remember it,
the peck placed on my temple all those years ago.
no butterflies or flushed cheeks for you.
it meant something to me.
it meant everything to me.
even now while we sit on your bed in a dimly lit room,
i ache with the need to pull you close,
to feel every soft curve.
to run my fingers through your dyed red hair
and taste the strawberries on your tongue.
that can't happen.
not with a childhood friend like you.
