Here's a little poem I wrote just for fun, not so old but rather distant already:

Friday Night
____________

I sit in a movie theatre
watching
the tumble of popcorn from careless fingers
the sizzling of fresh Coke
shaken, not stirred
and the tremble of sound effects through the seats.
the way the light ripples through the darkness
peeks between the intimacy of shadows
and paints the angle of a reclining arm
on a shoulder soft with familiarity, and
the accuracy of fingers finding each other
and weaving in the shadows, made daring
by the dark.

I sit in a movie theatre
and feel nothing but regret
as James Bond saves the world with girl in hand,
bravery personified,
and the credits roll.
the lights come on
and my failure is glaring—
the timid slowness of my fingers,
still two inches from your hand.
_____________

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
- Edna St Vincent Millay