Last Time

The last time I saw you
my knees shook.

They actually did.

They went weak,
so weak
I was afraid
I might fall,
Fall even deeper.

That hadn’t happened since a summer of 16
when my first great love
looked at me with
his amazing blue eyes
on a morning as we
waited for breakfast.

I never forgot the feeling
or the moment.

That had already ended by then too,

By the time he looked at me.

And yet I pined for him for years.
Just as I pine for you now.

I wonder what that says about me?
I hope it’s that I love well
and deeply.
(And not that I am stupid.)

He and I spent one night
bundled under illicit furs
on a bare floor
doing nothing but holding each other
and talking in front of the fire.

You and I had so much more.

Now, he is thousands of mile away,
and you?
Well, you might as well be.

But me –
I still feel like 16.

Photo credit: Arvind Balaraman at