There's nothing that can describe that feeling of warmth and smile that comes to my lips, the sweet euphoric numbness in my brain, the world I go into.
When that comes, if I am talking, I stop. I'm busy enjoying those memories and all the warmth and gayness they bring with them. Nirvana.

Is he some one I should hold on to and never forget? I doubt.
Is he someone that has had such a positive affect on me? Nothing drastic.
Is he of influence? Not really.
He is someone I learnt and laughed with, definetly. Someone I enjoyed the moment with, for sure.

Taking off my glasses, telling me how beautiful I am and how much he loves my big brown eyes, saying he'll lead me when I said I couldn't see without them.
Sticking his tongue down my throat, refusing his kiss telling him he was drunk and slobby. Getting a firm and offended reply of: I am drunk. But I am NOT slobby!
Talking to me in languages I don't understand, and probablly will never understand, telling me the randomest stuff ever. Telling me the only word/phrase he knows in my language, and it being I love you.
Trying to translate everything he's telling me in these forgien languages of his into a language we share in common.
Holding my hand firmly, when complimented on his what seemed to be new softness gives you a little intoxicated perky ad of appreciation to his new lotion - aveeno.
Reading bits of his diary to me before bed.

a walk to remember.