Yellow

I remember everything about it.

The last time I saw you.

I wore that yellow sundress.

We went to the farmers market and held hands among the produce and flowers.

I wish I’d known.

That day was the last day.

I would have looked into your eyes longer.

Held your hand a little tighter.

Memorized the shape of your form as I held you inside me.

Spent hours with my face burrowed in your neck, smelling your smell.

I’m starting to forget it all.

How long has it been now?

Months.

I haven’t kept track, but it feels like an eternity.

You haven’t seen my new purse.

My new flip flops.

My hair is longer again.

It’s starting to sink in that you may never see anything new or different about me again.

I’ll be frozen forever in time in your mind.

Always the way I was when we met.

Always wearing that yellow dress on the last day you saw me.

You never said it.

Couldn’t.

Told me lots of reasons why, but I know the truth.

You were scared.

Are scared.

It almost came out a few times.

You thought I didn’t notice but I did.

Somehow avoiding those three words made you feel protected.

And that you were protecting me.

But you said every other thing.

That you adored me.

That you’d protect me forever.

That we’d always be in each other’s lives, no matter what.

That if I were single I would be yours, and you’d never let me go.

I wonder how you’ve made peace with all the promises you made.

What kind of reasoning you’ve worked out so you can sleep at night.

These days I’m processing a lot about us.

The choices I made.

The choices you made.

The way I offered my whole heart to you.

How you couldn’t receive it.

What I’d do differently if I could.

What I’d do the same.

I’m haunted by flashes of you.

Images and slow motion home videos playing through my head at the most inconvenient moments.

Your hands.

Opening the door for me.

On the small of my back as we walked down the street.

Grasping my hips as you moved inside me.

Your fingers intertwined in mine.

I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything like us.

The intensity.

The passion.

The speed at which you made me feel seen to my core.

The level of intimacy you invited me into felt too good to be true.

I guess in the end it was.

You unraveled me.

Each day I weave another piece of myself back together.

Not the same as I was, not yet who I’m becoming.

I’m making a new tapestry of me now, one that has loved you and then lost you.

Woven with the bliss of your love, and the pain of your abandonment.

To you, I’ll always be the heart-eyed girl in that yellow dress.

But I’m not her anymore.

And you’ll never see how I transform now.