The memories of him ripple in and out of existence, like two worlds viciously colliding, viscera and shrapnel bleeding into each other and piercing the reality of my consciousness. I’m shredded by the explosion.
When my eyes close, the delicate tendons of my bleeding heart stretch and threaten to snap, and I wake in the lonely depths of my buried heartbreak.
Those extravagant moments flow over me like cold mist in my unconscious mind, where the secrets of the past wisp gently through me. He is part of me. I doubt I am part of him.
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