i wrote a letter to a ghost of my past

but i won’t send it to the address

that she wrote in her best handwriting

on the back of my hand

the day i got in my car

and watched her disappear out the back window

(the writing faded slowly until it looked like a blurred bruise)

wisps of memories still stir invisible currents in my mind

as i think i hear her laugh

and offer me out usual snack of nutella and apples

or get the special berry syrup for our water

and a small selfish part of me

still wishes i was that little girl who laughed in her backyard

and scarred her knees in the blackberry patch

behind the tree house we claimed as our own

and snorted while playing twister to violin music

~ because things were so simple then, before her betrayal made leaving the lesser heartbreak

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