There is an itch that wants to be scratched but you shouldn't.
It's a hangover from the past that needed a dot.
Although I know you are better in my dreams.
But reminiscing' with you is like rain in spring.
A breathe of fresh air.
The "what if's" suddenly pops into my mind to which I know are better left unsaid.
After all, you finally have yours and I, have my own.
But I couldn't help not to miss you.
I'm not sure what I missed about you.
Do I miss you because I longed for hearing your voice, or the way you say things?
Or the way we used to talk for long hours more or less a decade ago?
Or do I miss you because I missed talking to an adult or was it because I needed someone from outside my world to hear what I needed to say?
My secret keeper.
My cigarette.
A friend.
Yes, perhaps I really am living in the past.
For I am in love with the old you, with the old us.
In love of what and how we used to be.
For today as ten years has passed, rekindling old friendship has now its own limits and not for old farts.
Oh, how I really need to burst my own bubble.
I need to get these thoughts out of my head before I come into an irrational, illogical conclusion.
I know you're happy and I'm happy that you are alive and well.
I guess I just wanted to say I'm glad I found you once again.
