What I Really Meant To Say Is That I Miss You

Is there ever going to be a glass of pinot noir that will not make me think of you? To be honest, any glass of red wine will remind me of the first time I lied to you. I hated red wine, but I told you I liked it and that was just the beginning of the many lies.

It was a way for me to keep my wits about me because I would keep listening to your stories. I always loved your stories and that made the awful taste of red wine tolerable to me. You thought I was a good listener but most of the time, I was trying to hold on to the wine in my mouth for as long as possible so I didn’t have to drink a lot of it.

It was too early for me to be honest about my likes and dislikes because I was trying to figure out which of the categories you would fall under.

You told me that you would never hurt me and that wasn’t true either.

Of course, I always remembered all the details of your stories and of your face. You said you didn’t feel comfortable smiling, but you couldn’t help but smile when you talked to me at first, and how your hair curled towards the right of your face that you mostly kept covered under your hat.

You did have beautiful hair.

I observed the tiny details of you that no one could ever catch, the way you looked at and loved your watch-not…