Sometimes I wonder if that night really happened or if it was just a dream.
There are no photographs which I could have kept in my wallet, no tissue scribbles where I would have constructed an unrhymed poem for you, no lipstick-stained shirts where I would have smelled your perfume, no take-out receipts where I would have written our names and have it framed, no cheap souvenirs which I would have worn everyday, no exchange of phone numbers just so we could have updated each other that we got home safe, and no I'll-see-you-again kind of goodbyes that would have been my only hope of seeing you again.
There are no tangible things to prove a night I couldn't forget; just the vivid memories of you and me. Now I wonder if what we had was real or was it all just play-pretend?