We weren’t lovers. It wasn’t love. It was smiles, glances, grins, blushes, winks, jokes. I cared for you and you cared for me. You were mine and I was yours. So when it ended, I had to convince myself that we weren’t lovers. That it wasn’t love. No, it wasn’t love, it was worse. It was like alcohol, the burning in my throat when I remembered your voice. It was like drugs, getting high off of the memories. We were lovers. And it was love.