Private

Yeah, I know it’s private.

I probably shouldn’t tell

About the soppy

Smiling,

Goofy mess

You reduced me to after that night.

I shouldn’t tell

About the first

Scary,

Wonderful time

We did that.

But what’s the point then?

What’s the use of having

Blissful

Secret

Moments that you can’t tell?

Even though I know.

You know.

But I need to tell.

They need to know.

Because it’s me.

That doesn’t make any sense.