I first fell in love with you on a warm autumn day, you were sitting in the canteen reading a Discworld book in a warm hazy sunshine. I watched you through a window. I had no idea of what to say to you, or how to approach, I felt awkward and shy. A week later I summed up the courage to make you a mix tape, just sidled past and put it in front of you and walked off again, it seemed to make sense, and this whole unspoken but very real sense is what presided over our faux relationship for the whole two years that we knew each other.
We eventually talked, both trying to catch up with each other on the walk home, making idle chit chat even though it felt forbidden. You became my best friend, I could tell you anything apart from how I really felt, but you knew. And felt the same. We used to double duo back on your bike from pubs and clubs, this is the way I remember you best, flying down the road on a wobbly bike in the middle of the night, I, a princess on the back of a noble charger that always seemed to avoid the holes in the road. You left notes for me on my car, I was so oblivious to the fact that anything could ever happen that I pretended it was someone else, you never came clean until after I had gone. To want someone so much that it hurts is the greatest feeling in the world but also the saddest. Time moved on and after I moved you were found late one night drunk on my mothers doorstep in the middle of the night, I don't know why you came over but I wasn't there, and feel I let you down. And then you were gone. And I felt lost.
I would give anything for that feeling again.