i'm assuming i wrote this when i was 17 or 18

At the local coffee shop she's looking down and he grabs her hand from across the table. She looks at him, but he doesn't say anything. A familiar look in his eyes and she knows his intentions. A spiraling circle of death and she's been caught in it for years. "Those familiar looks aren't welcome in these parts anymore, cowboy." she thinks. 

"Stop it" she says

But he doesn't.

He never will, damnit.

My mom gave me a bag of yarn that I left over her house about 6 years ago. On a crumpled up Rams Horn napkin I found somewhat of a short story who I am assuming is written about my ex boyfriend Daniel Boes. I hated us and our relationship at the time but for some reason I couldn't stay away. 

Still friends to this day, he reminded me recently when I was younger you couldn't tear me away from a notebook...or a napkin...or whatever I could get my hands on to write on. Him and I would be in the middle of a date and I would grab anything possible and write down any random thought that seemed important at the time. This thought on a napkin above is an idea of the things I used to write spur of the moment. 

I want the spontaneity of my youth back.