You, in some unforseen way were Peter Pan, and I was somehow your Wendy.

The first moment that I saw you I was entranced by your alluring, boyish charm. The way that your eyes shone with a childish playfulness captivated every second of my day. Stories up on stories I would tell myself of us, all elaborate and adventerous; but they were only stories.
They were stories, until you showed me how to fly.

We flew to a land of magic and mystery, where every step that I took was a new adventure, every step was a journey into the unknown. There were mermaids and faries, pirates and indians; everything that you could possibly wish for in a figmental land. I remember spending days with you, lying on the clouds and watching the hours pass by. I remember dancing with you to forbidden music that only the two of us could hear; flying higher into the sky as we danced, our eyes fixed on one another. I remember you, the way that you were, and that is what I will always remember.

We flew and we ran and we fought and we played. There was no time for rest; we were young and impending adulthood was on the horizon. There was no time to waste.

I had never thought the time would come when I could fly with you, but I did, and it was enchanting and intoxicating. You, my dear Peter Pan, were the one who was intoxicating. You were a taboo, but in my head you were mine. And sometimes, I'd like to believe that you were mine in reality as well; in your own thoughts and dreams, for they were as close to reality as I could grasp.

But I had been so caught up in our own semi-reality that I had forgotten the legend of Peter Pan, the eternal youth. I had forgotten how Wendy wished to go home, and Pan reluctantly let her, only to return to Neverland himself, once again. You would never grow up. I don't think I ever could fully grasp that, not even to this day. You left though, and all that remained in my head were stories.