Goodbye kisses on an oddly cold day.

I can't stop thinking that one day, at some point, we made love for the last time, not knowing that would be it for us.

His first girl, my first love.

I remember the exact day and it's quite symbolic. So was sex; we communicated through it. Sex was romantic, slow, savage, fast, quick, recreational and sometimes even desperate. Until... It wasn't anymore.

I remember how he untangled my hair with his very large hands that day. I sat on his lap, kissing him almost frantically, for all the kisses we'd miss out. Goodbye kisses on an oddly cold day.

27. 24. 25. 30.

Just numbers, just days.

Like many things between us, I'll be the only one to remember..., To even notize.