Hi. How are you. Where are you. Who are you. Are you happy. Sad. None of the above. Do you think of me or is that over. Do you ever wish you could take it back. Do you miss my laugh or my legs or my lips or my hair or my humor or my willingness. Do you miss the way I looked at you, loved you, wanted to be yours. Sometimes I’m still her, that girl you might remember. And sometimes I like it, being her, being her and missing you. Like now, today.

I didn’t love everything about you but I loved you. And there were things about us that didn’t work but the parts that did were almost enough. So for now and probably a little longer I’ll be okay being her, the girl who stood before you on her tiptoes, that one day in the spring when your face was a smile and a question that looked back at her (me) and the expression you couldn’t read and she (I) couldn’t reveal. The expression was I love you. The easiest thing I ever could have known.