That moment.
When he shoots a smile in your direction,
And the bullet lands in your heart.
Logged in depths of your coronary, it sits and waits for the day he gets up and leaves, taking the smile, the laughter, and the light in your eyes.

But he always forgets the bullet.
The little pellet that begins to throb with a dull ache.
As if to say, “take me out, I belong to my owner”.
But it’s logged in too deep. So deep in fact that it left imprints on the walls of your heart and the roof of your brain.

So you’re left to perform surgery.
To remove the memories that dance around before your eyes,
To peel off the touch that he left on your skin,
To wipe away the tracks of your tears etched on your face.

And somehow, the process that you thought would take forever, only took a few months, maybe a couple of years.
The procedure became less painful.
And the wounds he left behind began to heal faster.

Then all that’s left is your mind.
You have to teach it to trust again.
To love again.
And that takes even longer than you ever thought.


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