I should have told you when I had the chance, when we were both to young to know what words like 'love' and 'loss' really meant.
Now you're gone, you're with him instead and I watch him run his fingers through your hair and wish they were my fingers exploring your glowing tresses, or yours in mine.
It's been four years, and I know we're not the people we were anymore, but somewhere, in the back of my mind, there is a memory of us together: a photograph of us laughing and sitting as close as lovers without touching.
From time to time I take that photo out and imagine what might have been if I'd just told you how I felt.
We could have been glorious.
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