El Cuerpo De Mi Alma

I gave them names once,
but I can’t seem to remember
the letters that shaped them.

The sound they made feels almost vague.
But I do remember how they smelled
like strawberries with cold iced mint
on a summer day by the ocean.

I love the ocean. It’s so vast,
cold and blue. Dark blue.
That’s my color lately.

The color of my emotion.
The color of my soul.
The body of my soul.

Sometimes I wonder if colors have memory,
if they hold pieces of us
long after we forget.
Maybe that’s why the ocean feels familiar
like an old friend who never needed a name.

It’s in the way the waves move,
slow and certain,
whispering that nothing is ever really lost.
Only transformed, softened by time,
waiting for us to come back
and remember.

And when I finally do,
it’d feel less like remembering
and more like returning
to the body of my soul.

El cuerpo de mi alma