Spring

He knew me when I didn't or maybe I changed to who he suggested I be, it was so long ago, how can I be sure. 

How can we be sure of anything anymore.

On a spring day like this I miss the way his cum felt dripping out of me onto my panties. I miss knowing who my next kiss would be from. I miss feeling the weight of his body on me. I miss the increasing dampness of his skin as he fucked me harder and harder. 

It's hard to remember what his lips felt like. I can hardly remember what his voice sounded like. 

And in many ways it feels like I was someone else entirely, maybe I was.