No Time for Bummers

Now every time I get cold,
I think of that night
in front of the fire.
In between you,
and your secret.
Your awkward burst laughs,
her dodgy eyes.
As I spoke of the beginnings
of us.
I feel stupid now,
but ecstatic then.
Shivering by a fire
ignorant and polite.
I shared my—our weed with her
and gave her advice.
I smiled and listened and nodded
as you were unusually quiet.
I never noticed then,
what was so obvious now.
I want you to feel bad,
but I feel worse for myself.