Walking in the hall I saw a young brunette sitting on the couch. I had not met her yet, but immediately felt there would be something between us. Before long we were hanging out all the time, more often than not by ourselves.
There were many nights of drinking and talking, just the two of us,
a number of times until the sun rose.
We were close, yet she remained ever guarded, with an ex-boyfriend
who did not seem to accept his status as “ex.”
For all we shared, to this day I know little about her.
The first time we kissed was on the same couch where I first saw her.
All seemed perfect, and yet it began to fall apart within hours.
She never did explain what happened and never seemed to understand why I was so upset.
The last time I saw her was a year later.
She said she had written me a song,
but she never did play it for me.
I was hurt and defensive and I wanted to hurt her too – childish.
Again, I was naïve and foolish,
and she was evasive, secretive and unsure of what she wanted from me.
Just about every time it seemed like we were to get started,
she’d get high,
or I’d get drunk,
or we’d both get drunk
and nothing ever began.