I loved a girl once.

I loved the way she spoke,

The poems she wrote,

Her smile,

And the gleam of sadness in her eyes.

I loved her for her love of Stephen King movies,

And Batman shorts,

Which she loved to tease me with;

For the way we woke,

Tangled up on her floor.

I loved her for the way she spoke of her father,

And a boy who didn't love her.

I loved the way she laughed,

And held me while I cried.

She was beautiful,

Though I can't recall the color of her eyes.

There was something in her,

That made her want something more.

I don't know where she is now,

But, god,

I hope she's happy.

I know,

Back then,

Happy didn't exist.

She was haunted,

Scared,

In need of me.

Too many bruises on creamy white skin.

She told me broken stories,

That rung with melodic pain,

And I cried for her;

With her.

Yes.

Yes, I loved her.

Though now,

We are nothing more than strangers,

Passing through the gloom.

I doubt that she remembers me,

The girl who turned her down,

Because of foolish fear.

I'd never loved a girl before,

I didn't know then,

That she'd be the one that got away.

Once,

A summer long ago,

We sat together and watched "Maximum Overdrive."

We laughed at all the wrong places,

And held hands in the dark of our virtual safe haven.

I remember wanting to kiss her,

Wanting to reach across the miles,

Through our wifi connections,

And the silence,

The terrible silence where our laughter should've been.

I loved her,

In that moment,

And in many others.

But,

That was many months ago,

And just like I've forgotten her eyes,

I'm sure she's forgotten mine.

I miss her sometimes,

Late at night,

Staring at the wall-

Remembering all the things that don't matter now.

Like the way she told me she loved me.

And I turned away,

Visions of a handsome boy,

A wonderfully broken masterpiece,

Dancing in my eyes.

Oh, yes,

What a fool I was then.

What a fool I am now.

I'd like to believe,

That we were both just silly girls,

And that she wasn't my one.

But sometimes,

When I can no longer help myself,

I think of her,

And the bobby pin that held her frizzy brown bangs just so.

So beautiful,

So messy,

And awkward,

Just like it always is.

I haven't told many people about her,

Or the way she made me feel warm,

And safe.

The way I wanted to kiss her,

More than I'd ever wanted to kiss anyone.

Or,

About how,

If I was given the chance,

I'd do it all different.

I wouldn't let her be broken anymore.

I wouldn't let her go.

But,

As the night grows long,

The memories become weak,

And I grasp onto them-

Tighter and tighter,

Unwilling to let her go,

Even though she's been gone.

Gone, gone, gone,

For such a long time.

I loved a girl,

Her nickname was Kirk,

Short for Kirklynn.

She was beautiful,

Though I can't recall the color of her eyes.

But,

I love her anyway.