Sometimes the memory of you surfaces above my subconscious where I tightly stuffed the records of you, double shutting the lid covered in bold red tape I’ve labeled “KEEP OUT.”
I pause —
All but blurry images of us that unravel in my mind like a movie.
Stop. Fast forward. Rewind. Repeat.
The commentary that comes to mind when I think of you is something along the lines of “What the fuck was that? What was the purpose of our worlds colliding? Was I supposed to learn something from this? Why did you appear to bruise me? To scar me?”
I pause in search of the answer —
At times in my head I imagine scenarios where some future circumstance magically unites our paths. We’re older now. Different. Molded. Morphed into something new by the experiences that shaped us. The look exchanged in our eyes are more mature. And in this moment it all makes sense. I finally understand. You finally understand. And there is peace.