I always remember on a Sunday night you surprised me and said, "I LOVE YOU." I asked you over and over and said don' t play. I replied to you and said, "I love you too always."
Then two months past, you said you wanted to leave so I said don' t worry just stay calm. So later on, we were going our way, but sometimes we had our bad days.
It was about our 4th month we had planned a day so we went out, but we had a big argument and didn' t know what to say.
Then the date finally came. You called me a bitch, so I got up and walked away. I walked away and stood behind a wall then I just thought "God please don' t let this relationship fall."
As a tear dropped from my eye, you walked by and said, "Baby I' m sorry, please don' t cry."
So finally we went home and you kissed me and I told you to go.
You made new friends and went out and do you know I sat there pissed, mad, and a kind of blue.
So then I finally told you, you don' t need me and I don' t need you.
So you said let' s just take a break 1 month, 2 months then I felt like it went away.
Then after a while you called me that you miss me, you love me and you want me.
We talked for a while, I was being cold then you asked me again and I explained myself and then said no.
So after that I wrote about a guy who stole my heart away as we said goodbye, he went his way and I went mine and here I am today.
记得我们初次相识时，你好可爱。我们一起玩打仗，之后你骑到了我身上。
我准备下楼时，你就扔爆米花，你躺在地上时，我折回来痛打了你一顿。
再次遇见你是在情人节那天，我有一点儿害羞，不知道说什么好。
还记得我第一次邀请你和你弟弟来我家玩，开始你不想来，怕看到我的父母和兄弟。
你上楼时，我正在玩风信旗。那时我就希望你能这么想——我可以和她玩风信旗吗？
你坐在沙发上调电视频道时，我凝望着你，并希望你没有发现。
接着，我们静了下来，开始玩打仗。在打闹中你咬了我，我也咬了你，然后我们抱住了对方。
还记得初吻时，你在椅子上坐着，我在你面前站着。
然而，时间过得真快，你得走了，我在心里说：“不，不要走！”
后来，在3月3日那天，你请求我做你的女朋友，我答应了，于是我们成了情侣。我希望我们的爱情之路顺利平坦。
我总记得那个星期天的晚上，你着实让我吃了一惊。你对我说：“我爱你。”我问了你很多次，并要你别和我开玩笑了。最后，我还是回应了你，“我也永远爱你。”
两个月后，你说你想离开我了。我对你说不要这样，冷静一下吧。这以后，我们又在一起了，但有时会发生争执。
大约在相识四个月后，我们计划出游一天，也就在那天，我们大吵了一架，之后就无话可说了。
终于，分手的那天到了。你骂我是泼妇，我气急败坏，起身离开。我站在墙后，祈祷着：“上帝啊，别让这段感情就此结束。”
我的眼泪簌簌滑落，你走过来对我说：“亲爱的，对不起，别哭了！”
我们一起回到家，你吻了我，我请你离开。
你交了新的朋友，与她们一同游玩。你不知道我是多么气愤，还有点儿忧伤。
于是，我终于告诉你，我们不再彼此需要了。
你却说让双方冷静一下，先分开一个月。可对我来说，这一个月就如两个月一样漫长。
后来，你给我打电话，说你很想我、爱我，也很需要我。
我们聊了一会儿，我的态度始终很冷μ 。你又问我是否愿意回到你身边，我说一切已骗无法挽回了。
之后，我写到，我和我深爱的男孩分手了，他走他的阳关道，我过我的独木桥。现在，我仍旧过得很好。
逝去的爱
First Love
约翰·沃尔特斯 / John Walters
I remember the way the light touched her hair. She turned her head, and our eyes met, a momentary awareness in that raucous fifth-grade classroom. I felt as though I' d been struck a blow under the heart. Thus began my first love affair.
Her name was Rachel, and I mooned my way through grade and high school, stricken at the mere sight of her, tongue-tied in her presence. Does anyone, anymore, linger in the shadows of evening, drawn by the pale light of a window—her window—like some hapless summer insect?
I would catch sight of her, walking down an aisle of trees to or from school, and I' d become paralyzed. She always seemed so poised, so self-possessed. At home, I' d relive each encounter, writhing at the thought of my inadequacies. Even so, as we entered our teens, I sensed her affectionate tolerance for me.
"Going steady" implied a maturity we still lacked. Her Orthodox Jewish upbringing and my own Catholic scruples imposed a celibate grace that made even kissing a distant prospect, however fervently desired. I managed to hold her once at a dance—chaperoned, of course. Our embrace made her giggle, a sound so trusting that I hated myself for what I' d been thinking.
At any rate, my love for Rachel remained unrequited. We graduated from high school, she went on to college, and I joined the Army. When World War II engulfed us, I was sent overseas. For a time we corresponded, and her letters were the highlight of those grinding, endless years. Once she sent me a snapshot of herself in a bathing suit, which drove me to the wildest of fantasies. I mentioned the possibility of marriage in my next letter, and almost immediately her replies became less frequent, less personal.
The first thing I did when I returned to the States was to call on Rachel. Her mother answered the door. Rachel no longer lived there. She had married a medical student she' d met in college. "I thought she wrote you." her mother said.
Her"Dear John" letter finally caught up with me while I was awaiting discharge. She gently explained the impossibility of a marriage between us. Looking back on it, I must have recovered rather quickly, although for the first few months I believed I didn' t want to live. Like Rachel, I found someone else, whom I learned to love with a deep and permanent commitment that has lasted to this day.
Then, recently, after an interval of more than 40 years, I heard from Rachel again. Her husband had died. She was passing through town and had learned of my whereabouts through a mutual friend. We agreed to meet.
I felt both curious and excited. In the last few years, I hadn' t thought about her, and her sudden call one morning had taken me aback. The actual sight of her was a shock. This white-haired matron at the restaurant table was the Rachel of my dreams and desires, the supple mermaid of that snapshot?
Yet time had given us a common reference and respect. We talked as old friends, and quickly discovered we were both grandparents.
"Do you remember this?" She handed me a slip of worn paper. It was a poem I' d written her while still in school. I examined the crude meter and pallid rhymes. Watching my face, she snatched the poem from me and returned it to her purse, as though fearful I was going to destroy it.
I told her about the snapshot, how I' d carried it all through the war.