Dear S.M.

I found myself going back in time, old photos, captions, words. Anything that would give a nod to when it all unraveled. Hoping I could find any clue to why you hurt her. I looked at your eyes to try to find the exact moment when it all changed. I do this every few months, maniacal and veracious I sit down with my spreadsheets and get to work trying to solve this for her, trying to fix her. She’s trying to find herself again while I’m trying to find your reasons.  How can you take someone apart that way and hold their pieces hostage for the rest of imaginable time like that? When she laughs, the trees rustle and the sun warms skin, how could you do that to her. In the photo, your hand tossed wantonly on her shoulder at the EDM concert, was that the moment? But how about two weeks later, you’re standing by the ocean, there it is, there’s her innocence, I keep seeing that in those photos. And I continue to see it as she tries to navigate the Eastern Seaboard or the Rocky Mountains, she’s trying to find what is missing and she’s trying to make sense of it all. You’ve shaken her certainty and her steady footing.  You may have forgotten what you’ve taken from her, but I never will.


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