The world seemed to slow down
like the endless crimson sunset
we seemed to admire.
Your name—
Slow.
Easy.
Soft as a feather.
My name—
Fast.
Hard.
Sharp on he face.
Yet, the details fade;
Your face, I evade.
The choices I made
Last summer.
Never under the strobe lights,
did we dance;
Never by the firelight,
did we kiss.
Last summer,
a memory of mere words
and a waltz of quick eyes before
our own worlds returned.
Last summer,
a fantasy.
You and me.
Me.
You.
Last summer.

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