Experience

I still think of you, sometimes.
Embarrassing.
The symbol of what I didn't know.
The symbol of how I thought it should go.
The symbol of ways that I wanted to grow.
But it didn't go anywhere.
Embarrassing.

I still think of you, sometimes.
Disquieting.
Ambivalence towards months of my past.
Ambivalence towards real life actors miscast.
Ambivalence towards all my decisions too rash.
But it wasn't even dramatic.
Disquieting.

I still think of you, sometimes.
Unsettling.
Imagining if I'd hadn't drunk wine.
Imagining if I had known what I know at the time.
Imagining if those desires had really been mine.
But I'm not who I thought I was.
Unsettling.

I don't know where you've gone to.
You could still be close by
Though thankfully not across the hall this time.
I hope you don't remember this
Or think much of me
And these embarrassing, disquieting, unsettling memories.