If I were to see you right now, I just might have to kiss you. My lipsticked lips pushed against yours. What a lovely picture.
When I sit alone, I sometimes think about the hours we spent in your room staring at each other. You always looked at me funny and I would watch you seductively, except you never thought I was seductive. Only dumb. But you still liked me.
You mistook my intellect as innocent, and it was, and you liked it. You liked it because I was intrigued by everything you'd say. It's true, you intrigued me. I was in love with you then, I still am now. But you've moved on, obviously. And now my only connection with you is a few polite words shared only in text, always at night.
I miss us then. I want us to be then, now.