I've moved on.
Well, sort of...
It's just that your memory and your impact-- lingers.
It festers really.
Like old bones that hurt in the cold or
Like an old wound that shoots searing pain at random moments
Or like a ghost limb that itches regardless of its amputation.
I've written this a million times.
I've thought of it a billion times.
Why did you do it?
Was it a game to you?
Did I hurt you so badly that you wanted to make me pay?
Did I mean so little to you that you didn't even care how your actions would hurt me?
Destroy my family?
How was it going to end?
I left because of you… did you know that?
And I'm glad I did--most of the time.