I was thinking about you the other day,
thinking its years since I heard from you.
And maybe you had forgotten me
and moved on with your new lover and family.
Yesterday I logged into my old email account,
the one I hardly ever use,
intent on deleting every email in my inbox
My insides clammed up,
but I thought it was one of those junk emails
forwarded by scammers using your email address.
I opened it to be sure,
my hand trembling over the mouse.
But I was wrong. It was not junk.
The knot at the base of my belly untied itself.
A feeling of warmth erupted at its core,
and I felt warm fingers crawling over my limbs,
spreading across my body
and tugging the edges where my lips meet.
You didn’t say much in your email.
But you never did say a lot face to face,
and you never needed to say a lot
to put a smile on my face or make my day.
In fact, you were always the shy type.
And I can remember: your darting big,
beautiful brown eyes escaping my gaze
whenever I caught you by chance watching me,
and the stifled giggle and hand over your mouth
that betrayed your guilt.
When I looked at the date and time in your email,
I wondered if it was a mere coincidence:
the time I was thinking of you,
you were also thinking of me
and putting your thoughts into writing.