Still think of you often


I thought of you the other day. I cam across a poem I hadn't read in a while (ee cummings' "May I Feel Said He") and in its simplistic eroticism, you came to mind. Obviously, it isn't that it evoked a memory of you and I in a moment like that, more of a wish or desire.
I know it would have been a terrible idea to have acted on it, given that we are both married to other people, but part of me can't help but have regrets.
I regret not 'accidentally' touching your hand in the darkness of our night time conversations. I regret not reaching out to touch your smiling face, to mark the places I would start kissing you. I regret not knowing the taste of your lips, staving the hunger I felt in your presence. I regret not holding you longer when you hugged me, because in that moment I felt protected and cared for.
Most of all, I regret falling for you; it hurts so much to pretend to be over you.


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