Here. At the park where we used to sit on children’s swings. Wearing imaginary rings.

We can't be friends but I'd like to just pretend.

Did the twin flame bruise paint you blue?

They say “all's well that ends well”, but I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind.

Everything I know brings me back to us.

But you're not what you thought you were.

There’s a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring.

But when I count the scars, there's a moment of truth
that there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.”
— Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Alexa, play “Karma” by Taylor Swift.