It didn't work it. It couldn't. On some level we both knew that. You were in your place in time and I was in mine. By definition that meant we would never be together in our place in time. I think we both understood that deep in our cores.
Sure, the ending wasn't great. They never are. The starts are always better than the endings.
At this point all we have are reflections. I remember so much about you. So many memories of things about you.
Your soft skin. A woman's soft skin never leaves your mind. Yours was among the softest I have ever touched. Your long legs. How it felt when you wrapped them around me. The silkiness of your hair and how great it smelt when I kissed your ear and it brushed against my cheek. The softness of your breasts and how you moaned when I played with them. How you looked afterwards standing naked as I viewed your reflection in the mirror. The silhouette of your naked body reminding me of what I had just had. The vision of you in that t-shirt and panties before I ever got to see you naked and how you longed to take them off for days before you actually did.
Those are all great memories, but I don't really miss any of those things.
I miss you way you looked at me, when we were just silent and staring at each other. That look you had that said I was the only one you ever wanted and you thought about me all the time. I miss that.