Her.

I hadn't seen her in a year, yet here she sat in silent, solemn beauty almost as if she was carved out of marble. She was with her cousin, a good friend of mine, both of them visibly upset. He was the sort of guy who'd sooner finish off a bottle of whiskey than openly admit his problems, and that was his wish, I gave him an understanding nod which he reciprocated and I ordered my own drink.
I asked if she wanted to talk about anything and was greeted with a marble stare.
So I sat, staring at the bottom of a shallow glass as I remembered our summer together.

The day I first met her was like any other, some friends and I were sat around, smoking and drinking, and over she walked, now I don't believe in love at first sight but that moment was the closest I've ever been to accepting the premise. Her olive skin almost glowed in the light as she strolled gracefully towards us, her golden hair wafting gently in the summer breeze. She sat and talked to my friends, her old school friends, I just listened. I had never found a voice so transfixing, it was like everything she said were words from the most beautiful song I'd ever heard, then she turned to me.
We got talking and talked into the night until it was time for her to leave, a time I wasn't ready for, I walked the half an hour walk in the cool dark of summer yet her eyes still shone bright the whole way. She said goodbye and my heart sank, I thought this was going to be the last time I ever saw her, and I definitely didn't have the confidence to ask to see her again.

Luckily, I did, we met up frequently with our mutual friends and we'd share looks and laughs, secrets and whispers. She had a boyfriend at this point, a right piece of work, luckily she had seen that they weren't to be and was ready to call things off. We attended a house party together and danced in the rain outside, slightly drunk from alcohol and excitement we went upstairs and hid in a small bedroom, huddling together in the bed to dry off. Although her clothes clung to her body there was no shame, but no pride, she was amazingly humble about the gifts life had given her. That's when we shared our first kiss, not of lust, not of drunkenness, but of true passion and feeling. I have yet to feel anything like it.

The last time I saw her I had drank far too much vodka and was far too young and far too jealous of her talking to a friend of mine. Without thinking I ended up locking lips with her best friend. I had never been more angry at myself, more upset, more disenchanted. My dreams had crashed before my eyes and I knew there was no coming back from this, I tried talking to her for months afterwards but she did not want to reciprocate the desire.

As I stared into my glass I felt a hand on mine, I turned and there she sat, her eyes glistening, not with happiness, nor sadness but a strange mixture of the two and she kissed me softly; not of romance or lust, but of forgiveness.

She is the one girl that I have never managed to get over, the one girl who I see every time I close my eyes to sleep, the one girl who I still fantasize about having a relationship with, the one girl I cannot forget yet probably doesn't even remember me.
I wish I could see you again.