I remember when we first spoke.

It was summer.

You liked writing.

It was sunlight and warmth and laughter,

and heroes, courage, daydreams.

I liked you.

I remember when we first dated.

It was autumn.

You had regrets.

It was breeze and leaves and sunsets,

and regrets and forgiveness and gentleness.

I loved you.

I remember when we first fell in love.

It was winter.

You were growing.

It was moonglow and starlight and silver,

and coats and kindness and late nights.

I wanted you.

I remember when we first kissed.

It was spring.

You had guts.

It was sugar and chapstick and color,

and warmth and fireworks and sky,

and all the things before it in one kiss

and suddenly everything was different,

and we were love and laughter and stars and daydreams

all in two people

and my god,

if I couldn't love anyone but you.