periwinkle blue dresses remind me of the girls we used to be.

the ones who spun until the world blurred

and didn’t yet know what it meant to be dizzy for reasons that hurt.

 

we wore youth like jewelry then,

barefoot and unbothered,

believing the sky would always have a place for us.

 

periwinkle was the colour of in-between

between hellos and goodbyes,

between what we said and what we meant.

 

it was the shade our mothers wore to weddings

and wept in at funerals,

the shade that stayed polite even when hearts didn’t.

 

sometimes i take it out just to feel the fabric,

to see if it still fits who i was,

or if i’ve outgrown the kind of innocence it holds.

 

or i take it out on a morning and think of others,

how we thought friendship was forever

just because it felt that way.

 

i wonder if you kept yours too,

if it still smells like petrichor and crayons,

or if it’s just another thing you’ve outgrown.

 

we don’t talk like we used to,

but when the sky turns that shade of blue,

it feels like a conversation anyway.

 

maybe that’s why i still can’t throw mine away,

that periwinkle dress in the back of my closet,

keeping a little piece of who we were.