Our love was hot, just like the summer day we met on. We fell so deep inside of love; who knew we would eventually be broken, move back to our home states, and once again begin to heat up again.
As I think back to the short year we were together, so many memories flood my mind. Walks through Wicker Park in the summer time, tank tops, and flip flops. Goodnight kisses under a jealous moon. Snow flakes on eyelids and warm hands wrapped in each other’s, through cold wind. Glasses of wine, listening to music, soul gazing, and nights of lovemaking that I had never felt before.
Now, he just holds me tight over the phone. I feel him close, but there is distance. My heart hurts thinking of how much I love him, and how I wish we could be together once again, if only for a little while to just touch. Next week. Next week my love will meet me back in Chicago, where we fell so deep inside of love. My spirit plays a familiar song every time he’s on my mind. I can’t imagine what my tears will say to him when I see him for the first time again. I hope he will look for me and find me. I hope he will remember me, and remember me well.