As much as my expressions made it obvious for you that I didn’t like the food at the American Diner, I wish you could see deeper through things, back then.
If only you could feel the goosebumps I got when you gave me that warm massage on the neck. I wish you could feel the restlessness that grew inside me with your fingers so flawlessly gliding on my skin.
I wish you could hear my heart pounding like it would never get a chance to beat again EVER in this life – each time you leaned towards me – to land a kiss or two on my cheeks.
I wish you could smell the aroma of youth inside me bursting at seams each time you made me realize why I am so much inclined towards sapiosexuality.
I wish you could taste the happiness I felt each time your presence made me a little less afraid and a little more confident.
I wish I had a Pandora box in which, may be, I could save all those precious moments.
I wish I could just keep you with me, despite all that has happened.