Things remembered

I finally stalk into you from before. I remember the story that I told everyone, including myself. I try to separate the fact from the fiction. I don't dare look over my shoulder, I know you won't be looking back. It wasn't the glance that I wanted. I wanted the straight ahead look that would dig into me. The me that I want someone else to know, who knew.

The look that you want me to give back, or that I want you to want. That I want someone to want from me.