You know, for the record? I loved the way you touched me. I loved the twinkle in your eyes as you called me lovely.

I loved the grin and how you’d stare and wouldn’t turn away. I even  loved the stunt you pulled, the last time you left to stay.

I loved the dare inside of you, the never backing down. I loved the way you talked the talk as if you owned the town.

I loved the jokes, but not the names, as I’m sure you know. I loved the way you crashed the humor in the middle of a show.

For the record, I haven’t had that much fun, smashed into just one week, well, come to think of it, ever. Never, so to speak.

For the record, this was not a fling for me. It was never a fling to begin. Not that that helps me now, you got under my skin.

For the record, for what it’s worth, if given a second try. I’d do at least the same, and more. Maybe. Know why?

Because you touched a tender part of me. That I forgot was there. And for the record, loud and clear: I ran cause I was scared.