What lasts? Things bright, shiny and new, or things worn out and lived through? Where is the consistency in love, when loss lurks at every corner? A perpetual reminder, that all we’ll ever truly know is the absence of something. It’s been quiet and I’ve been tracing back to all the instances of you. Truth be told, the memories are fading. Thank god, or whoever. I thought I’d never rid myself of the ghost of you. Haunting, looming at the back of my mind. Not that you’re dead, but to me, you might as well be. Consider this a shout into the void. The void being your heart, of course. And the shout being a nod of recognition to solidify the implication that I’ll never hear from it again. The strum of your breath. Your chest rising and falling. The laughter shared by nervous lovers and the silence of unapologetic, unparalleled happiness. Fare thee well, then, newfound stranger. As I dress these thoughts in excessive words, I’m struck with knowing that I can fill this vacancy however I wish. With dancing, and poetry or whatever else I can utilize to romanticize my loneliness. I hope you never read this. I hope you never know how hard it is. I hope the image of me in your mind is of someone who is cold and angry. There is power in anger and at this moment, I’m weaker than I’ve ever been. -Carina Wessels