C,
You were a blond-haired, blue-eyed dream. You towered over all others; your singing voice was that of an angel. How mad I was for you! When my name passed through your lips, I swooned like a Victorian woman receiving a letter from her love. I could not get you out of my mind, and oh how I tried. Merely being in your prescence brought me such giddiness and joy that I thought I knew their true meanings. I did not. You were not mine, nor would you ever be. And when you left, my world was a bit darker, a bit grayer. But alas, I survived, and moved on.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
D,
I will never forget you. In fact, I still have dreams about you, though I haven't seen your face in eight years. I think you were my first love – a love that stemmed from childhood. I can still see your soft brown hair and brilliant green eyes; I remember how you said my name, and how you laughed. You made a drawing for me, and I treasured it as though it were gold. It might as well have been. At the age of nine, you lost someone to disease. How my heart broke for you. Each and every hug was precious to me. I never wanted to let you go; I don't think I have. I still love you. I think I always will. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. And I hope you think of me, selfish though that thought may be. Maybe, just maybe, we will meet again.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
R,
I had never met anyone quite like you. Your red hair and rust-colored eyes pierced my very soul. You looked at me like no one else ever had, and I felt so special, like a fool. We shared some secrets, a few sweet moments, a touch here and there. I thought you loved me. We had that rare mutual pining – an attraction so strong that seemingly nothing could come between us...except the distance. It was not a grand distance, but a distance nonetheless, and you dropped me in a flash for someone of proximity. Just like that we stopped speaking, stopped sharing, stopped everything. Fast forward a few years, and I hear you're getting married; I am devastated, the pain in my chest all-consuming. See, I thought you'd be mine. My love for you ran deep, deeper than I thought possible. But now it has run dry. I feel nothing for you, though I wish you every happiness.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A,
You were a new kind of fascination. I never thought I could think of a person in such a way, but I always imagined that you tasted like cherry. When you spoke of other loves, of the one night stands, of stolen kisses, of the sex you'd had, I hurt and was angry, but did not know why. See, I wanted to be them – the ones you loved, the ones you kissed, the ones you fucked. How I yeared to have you push me against the wall and kiss me until I forgot my name. I wanted to save you from all the heartbreak and restraints of adolescence that chained us. I wanted to be yours. Fantasize though I did, we became two ships in the night.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
K,
A wild child with bright red lips and an infectious laugh. You brought life into our dull school days. Did I want to only be you, or be with you? My clandestine desires were shared with none except one: that I wanted to taste your lip gloss, which I heard was cherry. I wanted to squeeze you and hold you and know everything about you. I socially clung to you because I was an outsider. I was naïve, obtuse, and starved for affection, and you were were bubbly, badass, and unapologetic. Our hands would have fit so perfectly together, both so soft and small. But now you are his, I am hers, and we are both, for better or for worse, better off as friends.
