I saw you in a dream, and I remembered . . . .

My missed connection is that idyllic outlook on life that people are good, that they say what they mean, and that they are not out to harm you.

My missed connection is that first kiss where her lips are so alluring, and the passion is so crazy-wild that the electricity between us can almost be seen. I miss only thinking about that kiss, and not whether the kiss would be worth the drama later . . . .

My missed connection is the fresh eyes, the beginner’s eyes, that I had for the mundane: cooking dinner, driving to wherever, and opening my eyes to the rising sun.

My missed connection is my innocence. I have grown up, and I miss you. Just tell me what I can do win you back.