Retrospect

Do you remember the very first time we met? Do you remember the time our feet intertwined in the same place? Do you remember the time our eyes sent undecipherable indications of attraction, as if they were a separate piece of our bodies acting by themselves alone? Do you remember the way my heart pounded in a terribly loud manner, when you first held my hand? Do you remember how it was only a joke, and how I earnestly wished it wasn’t? Do you remember when we first kissed?

I cannot even begin to acquaint myself with the unimaginable exaggeration of what that kiss meant to my life, or how I cannot begin to accept the fact of losing a memory so vivid for somehow, in the distant future, our paths would begin to leave us only trails of each other’s souvenirs. I can count to a hundred years and more with you but I may never live up to it, just as I could hope for a longer togetherness with you but I can only tell what the present serves as answers for us, and for us alone. That kiss made me write a dozen by-products of its lingering magic; it’s funny how a simple damping of my lips to yours could make me write a thousand words all in accordance to the four-letter word you made me feel.

I could only so far bring myself to the conclusion that that kiss was all it took for me to start believing in happy-ever-afters, or a jocund epilogue, or a promise of an unending sequel. Will you always remember these? I wonder.