the evidence is in the way I loved you. the way I lose myself in the flurry, the words settling around us like styrofoam flakes in an agitated snow globe. Distance does little, and time is just as ineffective. The marks I have left have become like darkened bruises under my skin – painless except for when I touch their memory.

What must be remembered is the entire story – no redundancies, no leeway for the good to overshadow the bad. Remember things exactly as they were without allowing the mind to take comfort in its own deception. Give credit where it is due, accept blame where it is just and know when you’ve been wronged. Everything we do is a reflection of who we are.

The words we say become the house we live in. 

Photo by Nicola Fioravanti