Saturday, June 11, 2011

Shrapnel

Though my mind and heart were at ease with the absence of him. Relieved, even. But the familiarity built inside of me from the previous year and a half was taking its time leaving. It felt as though I was having to pull parts of him out of every cell, like a surgeon removing shrapnel. The ones in my eyes were being the most troublesome. They played tricks on my understanding. Seeing him in people that after a moment passed were proved not to be. I had ran into him, the real him, a few times since the removal, and I always seemed to get knocked on my ass by the impact.

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