Those words left behind.

I remember the brisk air of a march night. I remember wishing that the air smelt warmer, and thinking that you should be closer. But in the crowd of friends I found you furthest away. We shared drinks and talked all night, but it took hours for you to reach me. Brisk conversations and then we both parted ways. You would call me when we left and talk to me the whole ride home. It wasn’t fair that it you did not talk to me that night, but I couldn’t care less because at least you were talking to me then. I would be the last person you spoke to before you slept. I always hoped that would let me into your dreams. I hope it would stop you from even forgetting me. I still hope that though you're not calling me at night.