I guess I want to tell you you were right.
I would have taken any chance I got;
and whether it were done for love or not,
the difference to me then would have been slight.
I claimed I was in love--and that was true,
the way you only are when it's your first:
amazed, inflamed, drunk and yet dying of thirst
not quenched by paltry words like "Love you too."
So I was mean and stupid with desire...
But think of this: as leaves turn gray and bland
after a brilliant fall, so too the hand
of memory paints the past in swaths of fire;
Our chances to be that special are few.
Just think of it, now--it could have been you.
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