It’s been one heck of a ride. From your hands all over me, to your eyes not willing to make contact. Makes me wonder what went wrong. The butterflies are dying and I don’t know whether it’s a sign of moving on, because mentally I’m still there, back at the club, where for the first time I felt us as a ‘we’ and now even when you’re right in front of me, we pretend as though we never knew each other. And though my appetite is back and I manage a few hours of sleep I still feel silly to keep forgetting, it was always a “you” and “me”, never a “we”.