I can’t help but smile when I think of you. I think of all the buttery, pink sky moments we shared. Those coquettish smirks, when only you and I understood.
The laughs shared through every moment, although vividly fleeting, although uncertain, still felt wholesome in an unexplainable way. Your face, how it captivated every inch of my eyes. When I caught you staring at me, from a distance, you never looked away, not one flinch.
I knew I was seen by you, and I wanted nothing else.
I sometimes think of you, I can hear the subtleties of your voice, I replay the reel of us, which looks like 24 carat souvenirs tucked away in a dusty pocket in my brain. I smile at the high-def production in my mind, with both the lowlights and highlights.
But it’s refreshing, finally. I allow myself to revisit this storyline, one that’s not bolded in thick ink anymore, but rather, very lightly written with a yellow number 2 pencil.
The missing you part isn’t heartbreaking anymore. The missing you part isn’t trying to fill a void within myself anymore. The missing you part makes me feel lucky, maybe to have known you, but more to have learned about myself, from you.
Your presence, it pushed me to explore parts of me I never knew even existed. The parts of me that I was carrying like a backpack, out of sight, out of mind. You magnified these parts.
You cracked open a whole new me, a fiery version. One that has stopped longing for you but instead, is thanking you for the transient, utopian world we lived in together which is now a distant, distant memory, almost a blur.
A pretty blur though.