The Boy With The Black GTI

When I was a little girl, at the edge of my street, where my dreams would meet my heart beat, there lived a boy. I can still remember the glow of his olive toned skin and the way his sandy blond locks of hair would tickle his eyes when he laughed. He brought my silent heart to life and made it skip to a beat of love. I would spend my days with my head in the clouds, me and my boy.

One day when that boy became a man and I became a young lady, I found myself sitting in the front seat of his Volkswagen GTI staring into his bright hazel eyes. His sandy blond hair was shaved down to a golden stubble. I tried to act cool in that front seat but my insides were on fire and my head was dizzy like a lovesick fool! He slowly said my name and I looked to his full pink lips with expectation. If he looked into my eyes I was sure he would have seen straight through to my soul. He gently raised his hand and slid it around my neck and quietly pulled me close. My eyes lifted and locked with his, he leaned forward and he kissed me. It was deep, it was soft, and most of all it was beautiful. And if I close my eyes long enough I can still feel how warm his lips were.

A few weeks later that boy crushed my dancing heart, and as he spoke those solemn words from the same sweet, warm pink lips that lit my soul on fire, I heard my heart's last breathing word.