When we were young I wrote you a letter how I would love you no matter what. I was so naive back then, I couldn’t imagine a world where we’d ever change. You were so cool, and your smile made me melt, no matter what. Even when you were teasing me about my hair being so curly and wild. But that was hardly anything to tease a person about, and at least you noticed me.
I always noticed you. And that wasn’t something you discovered until we were back home again, two years ago, laughing over ice creams we’d gotten for nostalgia’s sake. Suddenly there was rainbow sherbert on my nose and the way you looked at me sent my stomach flipping and my heart pounding for a moment and I had to tell you how I felt back then. Seconds after, you licked my nose and we were laughing all over again, and then our lips came together.
But that wasn’t fair of you. Not to me, and not to your wife. Not to your children, and not to yourself. When we were younger I would have loved you no matter what, but any residual feelings I had for you from way back when died when you took me in your arms and broke your promise. I’m sorry.