Each way you looked at me,
In the tent,
Across a table,
Or simply glancing at me,
Is ingrained inside my memory.
As well as what your eyes said,
Without having to move your lips.
Conveyed thought through expression.
Betting money you wish you could take it back now.
If you so stumble upon those moments, when you’re thoughts are sobered enough;
When the nights are rough enough to surface fractured and pushed aside recollection,
To my short time in your life:
Do you still want to take it back?
Or, for a few brief seconds,
Do you ponder the thought of me,
Making up for what you lack,
Do you think of me,
Wonder about me,
And want whatever the heck we had, back?