The state of my mind matches light monsoon today, under the cold, disappearing sunshine in 6pm Boston. Fifteen minutes ago, the clouds were a splitting image of your hair every Sunday morning while you lay asleep, soft breaths caressing the skin of my bare chest underneath the warm sheets.
I remember the pale yellow sundress you gave me in our tiny sunflower garden. I still have it by my side, it's safe and it's melancholy. I wish I could wear it and twirl, fabric fluttering around in uneasy yet free circles just the like the butterflies in my tummy two years back when you yelled out my name the first time. Or like the time you stroked my head like my mama used to when I was sick.
The fragrance of home, my grandma used to say, is what you'd truly look for in foreign people at the end of the day. My parents' house gave off the fresh fragrance of cinnamon and baked bread, and something very warm, which I can't put a finger on. I used to wonder if I'd carry this fragrance to my new home or have it mixed up into something completely new but homely.
I hated your perfume. But I loved how its fragrance danced around our apartment making it our home. I could lie to your face another time like the million times I did, that it was good, because I loved to smile under your lips kissing mine at every sweet little compliment.
They said you were a dream. And I couldn't agree more. You were the iridescent light that illuminated my world, infusing my heart with helium and leaving me bereft of words each time I heard your laughter. Your dusk locks and weed eyes. Your beauty was as bright as a diamond carved by the finest gem-cutter. Oh, they were convinced you're imaginary, my love.
I could see you everyday, but now you come around less. I reach out my hand but you fade away, disappearing into thin air. My eyes water at the thought of you leaving, every time. My blood becomes too thick and too cold for my arteries. But then you're back again. You have your own way to leave me guessing, love. And then you smile at me, making my ribs ache caging my restless heart.
Right now, you sleep next to me in this foreign place. The bed is hard and cold, and they don't allow me to wear the dress you gave me. It's a shame.
That's okay, as long as I have my arms around you, Pensée, I'm home.
