I suppose
my brain is playing tricks
constantly replaying scenes of years past
through the foggy lenses of memory.

It was in the start of winter that you first asked me what my favorite color was. I remember drinking a smoothie so cold that my tongue became numb. My cheeks were hurting, protesting the work I had put it through from smiling so wide. I can’t remember who was the first to pose the question. All I can recall was my heart leaping out of its cage, warmth spreading down to my fingertips when you said “blue” with a hint of a smile on your face.

Hostage
to my own consciousness
witness
to a romance long gone.

We were walking aimlessly on a particularly cold day. You turned to me, and I to you. I looked into your eyes and saw a gentleness I had never witnessed before. Love, I thought it was. I couldn’t help but smile at your soft gaze. You looked away as I saw color rising to your cheeks. I watched on as you sputtered, fumbled, fidgeted – as I wondered what on earth could have brought Samson down. Eventually you told me you had wanted to kiss me, and that was when I knew I was your Delilah. Winter had never felt so cozy.

I wonder
how much longer
shall I stay shackled
bound to the chains
ghosts of our past selves
playing our youth.

Do you remember the first time we exchanged those three words? I do. We were ensconced in each other’s embrace. Taking cover from the bitter coldness of the rainy day; warm and cozy in our safe haven. It took me back to the one time you had asked me “Do you think there are other couples like us? Ones who just enjoy each other?” I no longer remember what I said, but your question seems to be forever etched in my mind. That day I looked into your eyes again, and thought that blue was indeed my favorite color as well. Did I ever tell you that? What the stories never revealed was how Delilah fell for Samson, too.

Humans are fickle
aren’t we?
Seasons change, time flies
for a brief moment
I forgot
that people do, too.

The way you tentatively wrapped your arms around me told me stories you could have never even started. The way I curled away, into, away, and into you again. Back and forth, tossing and turning; never making up my mind. The way your fingertips just barely grazed the small of my back. The way you gingerly pulled me closer; brought my hand to your lips like old times. So many words left unsaid, but the silence between us was thick and deafening. You turned to me, and I to you. I looked into your eyes and saw desire, grief, and acceptance all at the same time. I wonder what you saw in mine through your red-rimmed blues. I wondered out loud how life had twisted and turned. You kept your silence, and in that I found my answer. I shed tears of our color that night. In between kisses and embrace, knowing they would be our last, apologies were thrown haphazardly into the wind. It was a warm night, but tell me why I still felt cold.

People grow
old
apart
out of each other.
I know we did the right thing.
You had to find your way,
and I the same.
We had to lose
each other in order to gain
that’s what I kept saying.

It was in the middle of a summer night that you asked me again what my favorite color was. I remember looking into your eyes, fidgeting with my shirt of the same hue. I looked at you and whispered, “blue.” You told me to answer truthfully. I said I did. Perhaps on some level, we both knew why you did not want to accept my answer.

Perhaps to convince yourself
maybe even me, too
that we have run our course.