Strangers on the Same BedA Poem by dancingskyLove, I thought it was. I couldn’t help but smile at your soft gaze. You looked away as I saw color rising to your cheeksI 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. © 2018 dancingskyAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on September 30, 2018 Last Updated on October 1, 2018 Tags: memories, relationship, heartbreak, love, poem, poetry, nonfiction Author
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