We met in summer, when the trees sparkled exquisitely in green and the skies were clear. You were smiling when you told me your favorite color was blue. But as we watched the cloudless sky, you whispered, “It looks empty and sad.” I saw how it reflected in your eyes.
Your moods fainted and crumpled along with the autumn leaves. The bright tones of your clothes couldn’t bring back the dying crimson inside you. The sky wasn’t even painted with your favorite hue, but you said you liked how the clouds looked like frozen crystals.
Winter was your favorite season because “there is comfort in the cold.” With your hands shaking and lips turning into purple, you asked me to hold you tight. “You feel that warmth, too?” And so, we held on as long as we could.
Sometimes, you still look at the sky as if we were back in that summer afternoon. Until now, your moods fall, but also ebb and flow. And we might never bloom the way we wanted to, but we are here. We embraced spring hoping it can put back all our scattered pieces together—the specks of dust that we left behind; the narratives of us far ahead, untold.
I could no longer count all the seasons that had passed since we met. I don’t really think it matters. Though I want to ask if blue is still your favorite color. And do you still love the winter cold? Can I still hold your hand?
[ Third prompt: backmasking, the instinctive tendency to see someone as you knew them in your youth. ]
[ Here’s Semi’s Backmasking piece ]
Prompts by S 🌿
1. Sonder
2. Opia
⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
when words blend 
One thought on “backmasking | can i still hold your hand?”