The first time I heard "I am not your ocean anymore" it smelled like sandalwood. It was late, maybe midnight and I sat wrapped in her arms as Yerin Baek crooned through her way-too-nice speakers. The air was cool for July, the sky was full of stars, and the fire escape was the perfect stand-in for a balcony. We perched upon worn-out pillows and blankets and ignored the inevitable back pain that would plague us the next morning. Crickets became aspiring musicians, we pretended they wanted to harmonize with Yerin's dreamy cadence. The peace felt at that moment was like no other. I remember turning around just enough to see blues and purples and reds from the neon signs in the street splash across my love's soft smile. I remember how it grew before she gave me a fleeting kiss. I remember how "I am not your ocean anymore" tasted like cucumber mint. I felt like drowning in her perfection that night. I craved to just stay there forever and bask in the neons' glow. The air was carefree. We had no responsibility. Nowhere to be and nothing to do but stay right there and exist together. I felt the stress melt away from my bones the deeper I sunk into her arms. She traced patterns on my skin and smiled through our quiet murmurs of love and affection.
Time always slows down when that song starts to play. It stopped when she looked at me that night, everything around us paused as we swayed to tellusaboutyourself. Sometimes it feels like my heart stops along with it and I wish I could go back. Rewind to a time when it was all okay and she was still here running her fingers through my frizzy curls. The curls that were freshly cut and dyed with a color she adored. Her fingers with a fresh set of nails. The way she would scratch a little at my scalp to hear me hum, sometimes it's all I think about. I hum along to the song and imagine she's there with me to listen. She was then, she looked at me with stars in her eyes whenever I hummed along with Yerin. I repeat the words to myself when I feel like I'm slipping away. It's bittersweet, she told me to listen to the words but I can't forget the way we loved.
It smelled like sandalwood, it tasted like cucumber mint, it felt like her hands in my hair, and it sounded like love, the first time I heard "I am not your ocean anymore."
