You were my first.
You were the one that never happened, but should have.
We were too young then, but even so, you were still the subject of so many poems, of so many fluttering heartbeats, of so many sleepless nights, of so many wandering eyes.
You were my first.
You were the one that never happened, but should have.
You were the one that left, but should have stayed.
You belonged here, and not many people do.
This place loved you and it truly seemed like you loved it, too.
But I loved you.
Perhaps I loved you too much and, being too young myself, I was left with no palpable way of expressing this to you.
I was left without you, hollow with longing as I waited for you, realizing you would never come back.
That you would likely soon forget me.
You were my first.
You were the one that never happened, but should have.
You were the one who lived perpetually in my mind, until you didn’t.
You were the first one I loved.
I used to listen to songs and think of you, I used to write poems with you laced throughout, I used to construct alternate realities centered around you, perfect stories where you were the hero who never failed to save me.
You were the loveliest I had ever experienced, but I was just too young.
I was far too naive to realize the vastness of the earth and all the people in it.
I was far too naive to realize that you yourself were just a boy, not the god I had made you out to be.
But you were my first.
You were the one that never happened, but should have.
You were the one who never left my mind, until you did.
At the time, I thought that there was no way I would ever forget you, that there was no way I would be able to move on, that there was no way I would ever love anybody ever again.
But I was just far too young, far too naive, far too stupid to realize that you never loved me and that there were far bigger things for me out in the world than one simple, self-destructive boy who smelled like cinnamon, who had the prettiest brown eyes and skin, who radiated laughter, who was terribly selfish, who took advantage of those who cared about him, who would never see me the way I saw him.
You were my first.
You were the one that never happened, but should have.
You were the boy I thought I was made for, until you weren’t.
Until I realized I was the person I was made for.
Until I wrote poetry far better than the poems I wrote for you.
Until I grew up enough to realize I did not need you.
Until I hardly even thought of you anymore.