Photos

I don't know. Every time I find his photo on the Internet my stomach lurches. The yearning to taste him is damn near unbearble. God he looks good. God the memories feel good. And we never even did anything to jeopardize his marriage. No. We were so damn good. So well-behaved. So chaste. Like bloody teenagers doing nothing their parents didn't explicitly allow them to do. Except I fell hard. He of course never showed if he even had a clue. Hopefully not. Cause that'd have been embarrassing at my age, even back then. Would certainly be beyond mortifying now, if he learned I was still pining and stuff.
I know it's worth it. What's a few years of pining against a happy marriage? Nothing. I should be proud I didn't let him stray. But I just feel stupid.
I feel stupid. Oh so stupid.
I feel stupid, and thick-skulled, and dumb.
Or maybe I should have let him. You know. Should have committed the crime. Maybe I wouldn't be feeling so guilty and heartbroken now, looking at his latest publicity shot.