One Day I Stopped

I’ve been cool with you.

When I danced with the first man with whom I fell thoroughly and what I once thought irrevocably in love, it was unforgettable. I was just eighteen years old. And I wore purple. The color of the morning glories announcing spring.

The sooner you admit it, I will too.

I was wearing a purple ribbed shirt, skinny jeans and flat suede boots, soft and black. With the minor stack heel I was eye to eye with him, just eighteen. Now, if I were in his presence, we wouldn’t be on even ground. Perhaps we never were.

I wish that you would stay now.

I felt him encircle me, his touch was gentle, we swayed like trees in the advance of a hurricane as we danced that day.

You nearly went away now.

We had three years together. Then he spoke my name, left the room and I never saw him again. He took a long time to leave my system. I sought him everywhere, as if he were hiding on the next page of my book, at the bottom of my coffee cup. I learned all the sad songs.

But you, you, you’re walking around.

I dreamt of him, but he never saw my tears.

Lyrics in italics by Camera Obscura; memories by me.

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