I wonder if it remembers us
I hate the fact that you made me reconsider which goes first; the cereal or the milk. Now I live on bagels.
I truly, deeply, impossibly, dislike the things I know about you. Like the way you look first thing in the morning. Slightly wrinkled, like a shirt out of a dryer, your mouth slightly open. The way you curl up into yourself when you cry; knees tucked in. How you’re still a little scared of the dark. You were all about whole wheat, never white bread. I know that the way you laugh when I tickle you is refreshingly different from your low chuckles. God, how I miss that laugh. I loved your stomach, your elbows your knees. I made circles with my fingers around each surface of your body. I remember the way your mouth burned holes into my skin. Every tender, desperate kiss would make me float, remind me of words like ethos. Smooth, rolling off my tongue. The way my hands were always cold, even during summer, yours warm. You’d hold them as we watched the Food Network channel. I know how your eyelashes felt on my face, that’s how I always knew when you weren’t sleeping anymore. I remember that you shudder, wince and cringe when you sleep. I used to worry, but didn’t want to wake you. God, you’re beautiful when you sleep. Did you know that?
I flipped my first pancake with you. I love Into the Wild because of you. Remember how we both snuck out of the house, before the sun rose, because speaking over the phone that time wasn’t nearly enough? That was the best day of my life. It was also the morning after my birthday, as well as my graduation. I remember that morning we were talking about why it’s too late to try again. I was with someone else. Bad timing to tell me you loved me. God how I loved you before, and still did then! But I was with someone who’s loved me shamelessly, who wouldn’t change his mind. I told you I just couldn’t give him up, for something as unstable, unpredictable, as you. Either way, we watched as the corners of the sky lighted, and eventually gave way to blue. You cried, and I cried. I wanted to lay my head on the space between your neck and your shoulder, my favorite place. You looked at me, wiped your nose and pushed me away. Asked me why I was doing this. I told you that if this was the last day I’d see you, I might as well breathe in the moment. You never looked so vulnerable, so shaken up and in love. I saw myself in you that moment. The way I felt when it was you I’d drop everything for.
But of course, that wasn’t the last time I saw you. I ended what I had with the boy who looked at me with love in his eyes, to settle with you. I broke his heart, to be with you. To spend the summer by your side and feel invincible, like nothing could stop me, now that I had this feeling of pure joy overflowing out of every pore in my body. And I learned that you hated tea, loved skim milk, and liked your pizza with peppers. You still remain the only person I know who owns a kendama. I still have the one you gave me, but it’s in the bottom drawer, with a bunch of other clutter, so I won’t accidentally find it. I’ve forgotten what you smell like, but if I came within feet of you, I’d remember.
Fuck, it’s not that my life is meaningless without you, or anything like that. I have gorgeous moments I’m thankful for, I just think my life could be fuller with you in it. I still wanted to be the one you told how your day went. I wanted to be the one you chatted to, super excited, about something completely boring : “I just bought these new pedals for my bike, and they have velcro straps….”
And finally, Warped Tour. Ending that day by staying over at your place. For the second time in a row. Tired, sunburnt but smiling like idiots. Which brings me back to my initial question: Do you remember summer?