You took my breath away today.

I must’ve looked ridiculous, standing there in the grocery store, staring at you with my mouth hanging open. It had been ten years since I'd seen your face, your dark hair tucked behind your ears, your full lips. I’d always heard the expression, but until this moment I didn’t understand. 

In an instant, I felt our last kiss, my fingers peeking below your jeans to find lacy secrets.

In an instant, I smelled the stale beer from the bar where we would sneak off to the bathroom together.  

In an instant, I tasted your fruity lip gloss and the wintergreen gum you always chew.

In an instant, I felt the last time we made love, your moist breath in my ear telling me in gasps that you were coming.

In an instant, I felt the heartache of when we parted ways, too stubborn and young to realize what we had.  

In an instant, all the healing and moving on vanished.

In an instant, I fell in love with you again.

In an instant, I realized that I never stopped loving you.   

You took my breath away today.

And I felt ridiculous, standing there in the grocery store, staring at someone who looks enough like you to pass as you at first glance. She probably thought I was crazy, frozen in place with my mouth hanging open like that. And then she walked away, on with her grocery list and her life. But here you still are, hours and many drinks later, haunting me like it was only yesterday that we touched.

I had forgotten about the wintergreen gum. God, I can still feel it, cool on your breath. All I can do is pour another drink and hope I forget again, soon.