The months fall to shards at my feet.
But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.
The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.
The trick was looking past the illusion, because the exit was never as far away as it seemed.
I miss something I never even had.
I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.