The best years spent behind beards, shorts, kicking the ball.
Rough hands and the other half of the world from which I didn't feel understood, loved, brushed with conviction.
Valentine's Day, birthdays, money for gifts, cheap dinners out.
The best years that fade away, a glance back before continuing with vacations and wedding lists.
Looking into your eyes, feeling the scent of your long hair.
By feeling those smooth hands I finally understand everything about me.
Like an arrow that tears away my heart.
