Was it right?
Had I sacrificed my emotional timeline in favor of the movie scene first kiss?
A stone bench in Yerba Buena park, overlooking the city and the sunset.
It was picture perfect.
Yet, emotionally blurred.
The night sky, speckled with stars — my cheek, speckled with your kisses.
There are small candle flames, but no fireworks today.
The air feels a little too tense. Was it me?
Intimacy, admittedly slightly damp, with a hint of resolve to make it a memorable night.
I wander home eventually.
“Are you judging me”
I ask my best friend.
“Not really … just
When did you grow up”
I didn’t know. Did I?
Unless I didn’t grow up. Unless this wasn’t really me.
Did I choose the pretty memory over the rightful timing?
The pattern continues.