Letters: Purple
I can still feel that debilitating ache of remembering; how you and I — in the span of a month — learned the ins and outs of one another amid cold, late-night campus walks, closing shifts, soft-spoken chats in your living room. I remember that one cool April night, freezing with you on a bench in the quad but feeling nothing but more alive than I’d felt in months. My breath curling before me,
“You know those moments you look back on after years, that impact you in a way you’ll never forget? I can tell this is one of those moments.”
And if I’d known how scarce moments like that would be, I’d have breathed that night in a little deeper; smelled the cool, crisp air of early spring. I’d have memorized the constellations we pointed out in the park, remembered the way they twinkled and danced, reflected in your eyes.
God, I miss the luxury of raw, effortless connection. Of not having to try, of knowing my expression and explanation were always understood on a subatomic level. The familiarity I felt when you laughed. The way your words would stick to me like the residue of raindrops on my skin after drying. The way my heart felt oddly at ease and nervous at the same time. And it was all my fault — the way I ripped myself away from you, like a Band-Aid from a still-raw wound. I’d never opened up so fast or so easily before or since.
Sometimes, I wonder if you still think of me and how I might be doing, like how I wonder if you’re well now. If you’ve fallen in love. If my cold dismissal of our relationship stings you like it did me, or if I didn’t mean nearly enough to affect you like I hoped I had. I think of the way you’d say, “tell me something,” at any break in conversation. You had given me unwavering attention then, made me feel heard for the first time in my life. And when I took my glasses off, your breath caught; you remarked my beauty.
I wonder where you are now. I wonder if I ever cross your mind. Do you ever think of that night on that bench? I promise, I haven’t forgotten.
This letter is adapted from a few poems that I wrote in 2018, the subjects of which all related.