feeling of your fingers running through my hair, as easily as sand glides out of your fingertips.
i find the sensation coming in waves, the memory drifts far from me but soon surrounds me again.
your friends all liked me, my mind wanders to what could've happened.
did they ever ask about me?
if so, how did you respond?
but perhaps, you didn't have to respond for them to know.
or perhaps, it was so obvious they didn't even have to ask.
i may never know, but part of me yearns to while the other knows it's better to remain oblivious.
s.d.
