He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth.

He pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself.




-



Seriously. Whenever I’m with this “new” guy. Whenever we talk. Whenever we exchange text messages. I think of you. And it doesn’t mean that I’m going out with another guy is that I already forgot you. No. I don’t and I simply won’t. You’re simply the best thing that happened to me and no one can ever replace you.



Whenever this “new” guy would hold my hand, I remember those times when my hand was holding yours. Your warm hands. Those hands that were signs of our love. I would be happy if I hold your hands again, instead of letting others hold mine. I want to feel those warm fingers play with mine while we stroll, holding hands, swaying arms.



Whenever this “new” guy tries to kiss me, I turn back. Because once his lips touches mine, I feel disgraceful. Whenever he puts his lips in mine and tries to put his tongue inside, I feel disgusted, I turn back and slowly cry. Because the last time I did this was with you. Your lips, kissing mine. Those simple kisses and pecks. I want to feel your lips again. Because with your lips, I feel like you own me and I own you. Like we own the world. Like we’re the only people around.



Whenever this “new” guy would hug me, I remember those times when I was silently resting in your chest, with your arms around me. Those arms that were wrapped around my body. Those arms that made me feel protected. I want to hug you again. Hug you tight. And won’t let you go.



Never will I let you go. Again.