Navy blue

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Sometimes I find myself drowning in memories I didn't even remember I had within me. Recently I've come to realise that there is a certain memory that makes it all seem worthwhile.

I remember your room. The whole apartment, actually. I remember everything. And that's so weird 'cause I've only been there three times. I remember the layout of your room and the fact that there is a red light in the corner, next to that tapestry picturing The Moon. And somehow red was never the color that reminded me of you. It was always blue. Navy blue.

It took me a long time to understand why. But lately, as the memories came flooding in once again while I'm struggling to stay sober, I remembered. It was probably past 2 AM and you were still trying to impress me, although I told you many times you didn't have to do anything. I wonder if that was the most vulnerable moment you ever had with me.

We were lying unclothed in your bed just talking about pretty much anything that came to mind, like a couple that has been together for a long time and is simply enjoying some pillowtalk, but that didn't seem to matter that much. You still wanted to impress me somehow.

So you picked your guitar up and began strumming. I said it was already so late and the noise could wake someone up. I wasn't even scared for the other people in the apartment, but I was a little scared of neighbours complaining. You said I was right and put the guitar away.

I remember thinking you looked so handsome while strumming the guitar under the moonlight that came through the window. The room was dark but somehow the darkness seemed blueish and I remember looking at your ribcage and concentrating on your breathing. I'm pretty sure you have no idea how beautiful that image was to me. Everything was navy blue.

You didn't need to impress me by playing the guitar or showing me your band or the music you were working on. You didn't need to try to charm me, to show me your best qualities so I could see you had some worth. You didn't need to do any of these things, because I was already impressed by your mere existence. I'm so sorry you couldn't seem to understand that.

This is probably one of the most beautiful moments we had together, and I'm pretty sure you don't even remember it. It's okay. I'm glad I get to keep this to myself.

I'm sorry about how things turned out. And I know I'm not really guilty, but I'm sorry that I had to do what I did to protect myself. I'm sorry that I have to deal with all of this by myself because it was so beautiful and yet I have watched it die in slow motion over and over again.

Maybe I'll always grieve that night. Maybe I'll forget it someday. In a thousand years, or maybe a week. I don't know. But, for now, I'm just glad that I can still see beauty in what has been.