I wonder if you still talk about how we met. How you saw me on the other end of the mosh pit, with Girls playing on stage, waded through the crowd, held my hand and never let go.
I wonder if you talk about what happened next. How I slapped you and ran near the exit and how you chased after me. You said, “Something pulled me towards you. I’m sorry. Let’s start over.”. For some reason, I took your hand to leave and we talked for hours and hours without noticing the night turn into day.
I wonder if you tell other people what you used to tell me. How I was the earth to your apple, and by the law of gravity, we were naturally drawn to each other. “Science”, you’d say with that stupid grin, lean forward and pretend to fall.
I wonder if you ever even talk about me. About that girl you used to go out with. The strange, reclusive one. The one you left for another earth.
You used to say our story is a story worth repeating. And I wonder if that’s still true to you. Of how even if we’re not together, there’s still a gravitational pull between us that makes you think of me as much as I think of you.